Straight To Hell
by SisterDramamine
Summary: (Sequel to Hard Road) A year has passed since Dean's death. Castiel attempts to find a way to bring Adeline & Dean back from Hell. Sam & Cassie have built a new life for themselves, all of which comes crashing down when Dean makes a not so triumphant return. Can Sam & Cassie forgive Cas enough to help him? Will Cas be willing to pay the price for his redemption? Rated for language.
1. 1 - Castiel

**DISCLAIMER: I still don't own Supernatural. I'm also not affiliated with the show or the people behind it, which is a shame 'cause that Misha Collins guy sounds like he'd be a cool person to hang out with.**

**For anyone just joining us, this is a sequel. Well, it's a double sequel. If you're interested in reading this, I suggest reading Hard Road first. For those of you returning, thank you so much for your continued interest & support! I'm thrilled some of you are liking this as much as you are & I hope you continue to do so.**

**Don't forget; reviews are always optional, but they kind of make my day, so... I'll leave that up to you. Here we go! Enjoy!**

**Castiel**

My daughter hates me. I suppose she has good reason to. I abandoned her and, upon our first meeting, I killed her brother. She doesn't even know I willing handed Dean's soul to Crowley. I can't imagine what she might feel for me if she ever finds out.

I am a monster.

I truly abhor the things I did under my mad obsession with absolute power and I hate even more that I accepted this fate. Dean and Sam warned me against it. Adeline begged me not to do it. I ignored them and, because of all the horrors that resulted in my selfish conquest for a God like status, they hate me too.

I don't deserve to go back to Heaven. Apparently the feeling is mutual as I have been exiled. My banishment I discovered a year ago, shortly after Death took my powers and Crowley took my beloved Adeline. I relocated the survivors - Cassandra, Sam, Bobby and his woman friend Jody - back to Bobby's house and from there proceeded to return home. Only I couldn't. Anywhere in the world I could go but Heaven was off limits.

I imagine it still is. I haven't tried since that day. I've become preoccupied searching for a way to retrieve Adeline and Dean from the clutches of Hell. A way to fix this terrible mess I've created. I like to think it's why I'm stuck here. More likely than not, however, I'm being punished. Cast out of Heaven to walk the earth alone and tormented for an eternity.

At least I've got time to find a way to get to them. I know there has to be a way. There's always a way. And I have to do it alone. Not that help from a friend or two would be unappreciated. The trouble is, I no longer have any friends. The things I did, I did to them. Only I can fix this so that maybe, just maybe, I'll have a friend again someday. Or a daughter that doesn't despise me.

So I carry on my lonesome search across the globe for some spell, some potion or magician to retrieve my lost love and my lost friend. Even for a solo search, one would think an entire years worth of looking would yield something. It's somewhat discouraging the only thing I've uncovered thus far is a summoning spell.

At least I can see her again.

I stand upon the tall bridge high up in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, the very spot I first met Adeline. Fat white candles illuminate the small alter they dance around as I mix the bizarre concoction in a brass chalice. My heart flutters with hope as I clearly speak the proper incantation. If I'm doing this right, which I'm sure I am, I get to see Adeline for the first time in a year.

When my words die I stand in an eerie and complete silence for an agonizing moment in time. Where is she? She has to come, I called her...

"Well, well, well," an unfamiliar voice speaks from the shadows. Through narrowed eyes I watch as a young woman with light green eyes steps forth from the darkness, a set of black high heels clicking on the broken asphalt as she confidently strides towards me. Her chocolate brown hair in curls, her petite body wrapped in what I've heard is called a "little black dress", she smiles with a menacing amusement as she eyes me. At first I don't recognize her. This woman is not Adeline.

"Miss me?"

It hits me like a ton of bricks when I see the black and twisted face that hides behind the fair complexion of this woman. This stranger standing before me, she's a meat suit.

This is a terrible sign.

"A-Adeline?" my words falter as my heart sinks. The demon smirks.

"You like the outfit?" she questions, sliding her hands down her hips in a sensual manner and I know she's not talking about the dress. "It's new."

"I... I don't understand," I slowly stammer. Normally, the human soul to demon transformation process takes decades, sometimes centuries. Yet here she stands, a single year later, in some one else's flesh.

"I pulled some strings."

I whirl around to see Crowley standing just behind me with a smug look on his face.

"Turns out," he continues when I say nothing. "It didn't take much. She was already pretty discomposed by the time she got to me."

My gaze falls back to the new Adeline who blinks back at me with an emotionless face. This is not at all how I expected this rendezvous to go. I guess I'm not sure how I pictured it, to be honest. Maybe I assumed she would be happy to see me which, as I should have known, was wishful thinking. I'm the reason she gave herself to Crowley. Why would she be happy to see me?

But lets be honest. I never dreamed she'd be demon. Ever. Especially not so soon.

"Why?" I ask her at last.

"You know why," is what she tells me.

I watch as Crowley walks to Adeline's side, his eyes never leaving me as he does this.

"Now, was there anything we can do for you?" he wants to know. "Or were you just hoping for a friendly reunion?"

I say nothing, staring him down through narrowed eyes. Granted, my powers aren't what they used to be. I have even less than I did to begin with, what with being exiled and all. But I could still take him on.

"I know, you're probably wondering when I'm going to come for you," he goes on when I remain silent. "Don't worry, you're in the clear tonight. I've got something much more fitting planned for you."

Again, I say nothing. I have no business with Crowley and, whatever he has planned, I'll be ready.

"Well then," Crowley says, extending his arm so Adeline can loop her own around it. "Shall we return to our kingdom then, my dear?"

My dear? _Our_ kingdom?

"Wait... what?" I can't help but ask as I shake my head in disbelief.

"What?" Crowley eyes me. "A king needs a queen, doesn't he?"

And they're gone in the blink of an eye, leaving me stupefied and forlorn on that lonesome bridge in the dead of night. This complicates matters and changes my search into something I know will be even harder to uncover. How does one pluck the queen of Hell from her throne and strip her of the darkness that plagues the sweet, wonderful soul I know still exists?

As much as I don't want it, I may require assistance on this one.


	2. 2 - Cassandra

**Cassandra**

Life without Dean has been, to say the least, difficult. Strange. Incomplete. Weird. His death left a hole in my heart I've tried to fill in the past year, but I cannot. Most days I do a good job covering it up, but every now and again I find myself dwelling on his untimely departure from earth. I pray to my grandfather he is in Heaven.

The first few months were, by far, the most difficult. Sam and I went back to that spot in Colorado to retrieve Dean's body and give him a proper hunter's funeral. When we returned to the site, we discovered his body had already been incinerated in the meteoroid Death had sent. So we said a couple of words, said good bye and hit the road.

If you ask Bobby, he'd tell you Sam and I hit the hunting trails pretty hard for a solid three months. What we really did was simply drive. We saw a good portion of the country, hoping our mindless meandering would fill the void or, at the very least, help us find our way. Without Dean, both Sam and I felt more than a little lost.

By month four, Sam and I decided we had spent enough time mourning Dean's death. Attempting to pick up the pieces of a life you know can never be the same is an impossible feat at best, so we tried something new. We continue to hunt since it's who we are, but instead of relying upon Bobby as an in between place to rest, we buy our own home on a full acre at the opposite end of town. Sam occupies himself with odd jobs around the town to make some honest money, and he's been dating a lovely, like-minded hunter called Juliana whom we met on a vampire case a good seven months back. I keep myself busy with whatever I can. Some days I volunteer at the local soup kitchen or at highway cleanups, others I utilize my time building my weaponry and self defense skills. My favorite pass time, however, is spending a day with my nose buried between the pages of a good book.

Gradually a year has slipped by. We've settled nicely into our new lives, but even with the slow passing of time and the things we do to preoccupy our minds, the pain remains. I suppose it always will.

Sam's lucky. He only has Dean to mourn over. I am forced to bear the heartache of Dean's passing on top of my own brother's death, as well as my mother's horrifying choice to join Crowley in the eternal flames of Hell. I thank my grandfather every day for Sam. Without him, I don't know what I would have done.

Well, Sam and Juliana. She's been a much needed feminine companion for me, despite the fact her outward appearance might suggest otherwise. Beautiful she might be with her wavy golden locks and her wide, teal colored eyes, but to most people she looks more like the anti-role model; she dresses mostly in black, she drinks like a sailor and maintains a mouth just as appalling. Granted, she can be intimidating if you don't know her. When you do get a chance to talk, you'd discover she's sweet, intelligent, and one hell of a hunter.

She's been wonderful for Sam, too. With her, I can tell he's genuinely happy. Never mind the extreme difference in age and the fact Sam is close to a foot taller than she, they make an incredibly cute couple. It makes me a little sad to know it can't last forever, mostly because I don't think Sam wants it to.

But I won't think about that, not right now. Right now I'm trying to help Juliana track down her boyfriend.

"I'm pretty sure he's at Bobby's," I tell her calmly from my seat on the couch in the small living room of our small, single story home. Even with the curtains drawn tightly, I can tell the sun shines brightly upon the world outside. Days like today, if Sam's not mowing someone's lawn or helping pave someone's driveway, he's working relentlessly on the crumpled remains of a black Impala, a car I have come to understand holds vast sentimental value.

"He's not picking up," the blonde Juliana tells me, her speech mostly American with a splash of a fading English accent laced throughout her words.

"What do you need?" I ask, glancing up from the book in my hands to the mid-twenties looking woman. "I can run to the store if you need something."

"Oh, it's fine," she shakes her head, dialing Sam's number for the third time in a five minuet span. "I'll just have him pick some groceries up on his way home. I'm cooking dinner tonight."

This causes a curious brow to lift as I send her a questioning gaze.

"I'm not sure how I feel about that," I tell her with a mild amusement in my tone. She rolls her eyes as Sam's voice mail takes her call.

"I can cook food," she defends herself.

A rapping at the front door breaks our conversation. Juliana stares warily at the door for a moment before she looks to me.

"Aren't you going to get that?" she asks. I sigh and set my book down on the coffee table before I rise to my feet.

"You know as well as I do a little sunshine doesn't hurt," I comment as I slowly make my way to the door. "Besides, it's probably just Sam. He must have forgotten his keys again."

The words are barely out of my mouth when I swing the door wide open. The figure in the door frame causes Juliana's teal eyes to turn black as she rapidly backs herself into a wall, bearing a set of razor sharp fangs as a loud hiss escapes her lips. If I had a set of teeth like hers, my reaction would probably have been more or less the same. Less fearful, more vicious.

Fangless, I stand silent and still before the handsome man dressed in a business suit and a tan trench coat. I've only laid eyes upon him once before, and I had kind of been hoping it was a one time only sort of thing. But here he is, wearing an anticipative but sorrowful smile as he gives me a friendly nod.

"Hello, Cassandra," he speaks in his deep voice. "May I come in?"

I'm not sure what to say. I don't even know what to call him. Most importantly, I'm not sure I'm ready for this.


	3. 3 - Castiel

**Castiel**

I am absolutely the last thing she wants to see right now. She eyes me with a heavy uncertainty as her mind explodes with a blend of wild emotions, questions and thoughts. I won't blame her if she just slams the door in my face.

But she doesn't.

"Um, yeah," she slowly speaks at last. "Sure. Come in."

She stands aside to let me into the small, darkened house she shares with Sam. I eye the young looking blonde woman that watches me with a grave caution through blackened eyes.

"May I inquire about the vampire?" I casually ask my daughter who quietly closes the door behind us.

"That's Sam's girlfriend," Cassandra explains. "Juliana. She lives with us."

"Curious," I state.

"Juliana, this is Castiel," she introduces us, using my name in place of father or dad. It pains me to hear her call me this, but I know I don't deserve the formal titles. Not yet, anyway.

The name is familiar to the vampire who relaxes upon hearing it, her black eyes turning a lovely shade of teal while her fangs recede as she steps away from the wall.

"Castiel," she repeats with a warm voice. "I've heard about you. You're Cassie's dad. Sorry about the whole black eyed hissing thing. It's kind of a natural reaction to something that can kill me without a struggle."

"I understand," I tell her with a polite nod. Her name is familiar to me as well. Juliana, the ultimate hunter who dates back to the early 14th century, if I'm not mistaken. But she's not why I'm here and I cannot bother with small talk at the moment. Not with Cassandra itching to get me out of her house.

I return my focus to my daughter who stands ridged with her arms folded tightly across her chest.

"What do you want, Castiel?" she impatiently requests reasons to my unannounced visit with a cool tone. Whether she realizes it or not, every time she calls me by name, it digs that proverbial knife just a little deeper within me.

"I need help," I tell her honestly. "I know I have no right to even be here right now, but I swear to you I'm doing everything I can to fix this mess I've created."

She eyes me, determining my sincerity for herself.

"What do you need help with?" she wants to know with a note of suspicion in her voice.

"Perhaps we could talk in private?" I ask of her in a low tone, quickly glancing at Juliana who rolls her eyes.

"I'll be able to hear you from every single room in this house," she points out her heightened sense. "And, seeing how Cassie's just going to tell me what's going on anyway, you might as well just spill it."

I sigh and turn once more to Cassandra who wordlessly agrees with the vampire.

"As you know, your mother is in Hell," I begin, watching my daughter's expression turn from a hardened distrust to something more painful. "I've been searching for a way to get her out."

The heartache the memory alone causes her is enough for me to skip the part where her mother is a demon. She doesn't need to know that, not right now.

"Is that even possible?" Cassandra asks, a mild spark of hope igniting in her bright blue eyes as she speaks.

"Anything is possible," I tell her with confidence. "You of all people should know that. I was hoping, or rather wishing you might find it within yourself to forgive me enough to help me find a way to get her out."

Her mind wheels with thought. On one hand, I have no business being here, let alone asking for help after all the suffering I've caused. Then again, it is for her mother and announcing my intentions to save her shows I'm at least trying.

"What about Adelay?" she wants to know and I can't help but hang my head in shame.

"He is gone," I tell her remorsefully. "But if you help, we can bring Dean back too."

"No," Cassandra shakes her head. "Dean doesn't want to come back."

She thinks he's in Heaven. I won't correct her.

"Just Adeline then," I lie, watching her through hopeful eyes as she ponders once more. "Please, Cassandra. I know you don't owe me anything. If anything, I owe you the world. And someday I'm going to give it to you, but right now I would truly and gratefully appreciate some help."

She studies me and thinks some more until, at last...

"Can I... can I think about it?" she asks.

It's better than a no. So I take it with a small nod.

"Of course," I agree. "Take your time. Talk to Bobby and Sam about it. I could use their help, too. Just call me when you've decided."

I find a blank piece of paper on the dining room table and burn my cell phone number onto with a simple blink of the eye.

"Call you?" Cassandra raises a brow. "Since when do you need a cell phone?"

"Since I was exiled from my father's kingdom," I tell her with a long and saddened sigh. The look she gives me tells me part of her is glad to see me cast out of Heaven, but something deep within her has enough sympathy to spare a very small but encouraging smile.

"I'll call you," she agrees, signaling she is ready for me to take my leave. But I don't, not right away. I study my daughter for a moment, taking her appearance in. She looks so much like Adeline. It's heart wrenching, the things I've done to both of them. I know she still hates me for it.

"I know I've had a funny way of showing it," I tell her before I depart, my eyes locked upon her own. "But I do love you, Cassandra. I always will."


	4. 4 - Sam

**Sam**

I don't care what Bobby says, I'm going to fix this stupid Impala. It holds too many memories of both my father and my brother for me to just let it rust in a sad and crumpled heap in some junk yard. It's a slow going process that'll probably take me years to complete, but I don't mind. It gets me out of the house.

I work on the car for a solid five hours before I notice the slew of missed calls from Juliana and the single voice message she decided to leave me, requesting I purchase a lengthy list of groceries on my way home from Bobby's. I smile at the thought of her cooking. It's both endearing and highly amusing.

Our meeting happened during a case of mistaken identity that could have ended quite tragically. Long story short, Cassie and I mistook Juliana for the vampire we were after. Not only that, we underestimated her strength and almost got ourselves killed when we attempted to trap her in a dark alley. Luckily for us, she turned out to be a hunter on the same case. She assisted us in the rest of the hunt and, when it was time to part ways, I couldn't let her go. The things I had learned about her over the course of a few short days had me head over heals.

She's kind, interesting, smart as hell and just as attractive. She uses her natural predatory instincts to her advantage while hunting and when it comes to killing, she makes sure only those who truly deserve it are slain. The blood lust that drives most vampires to become the murderous bastards they are no longer bothers her. As far as feeding goes, she's on a strict and well controlled "donation only" diet. That and the copious amounts of alcohol she swears takes the edge off the constant urge to consume blood.

"A fifth of whiskey to a vampire is like a can of beer to any other person," she explained it to me once. "I might drink like a fish, but I can't remember the last time I even came close to being drunk."

I like her a lot. In fact, I think I've fallen in love. I know, I know. You're probably thinking, "there goes Sam, falling for another monster because that's worked out so well in the past". Juliana is different. She's compassionate, open minded and, most importantly, not a demon. The trust I have for her is unquestionable and she has yet to prove me wrong.

So I humor her. I stop at the supermarket and pick up every requested item and even get her a bottle of her favorite whiskey. I couldn't tell you the last time she cooked. For all intents and purposes, there's a good chance it was when she was a human. You know, 700 years ago. But I'll go with it, mostly because I love her and like to make her happy, but also because I'm starving.

The sun has started its decent on the western horizons by the time I get home with two arm loads of groceries and thoughts of a nice meal with my favorite ladies. Imagine my surprise when I find a discouraged Cassie curled up on the couch under a heavy quilt and Juliana strumming the mournful sounds of old blues songs on her antique acoustic guitar.

Whatever I missed, it was big. I haven't seen Cassie this upset since Dean died.

"What's going on?" I quietly ask anyone willing to provide a response.

"Visit from an estranged father," Juliana replies, her gaze fixed upon Cassie.

"Cas?" I speak as I set the groceries down on the old dining room table.

No wonder she's so upset.

"What did he want?" I have to ask as my beautiful girlfriend continues to strum those slow, sad tunes. "And can't you play something a little more upbeat?"

"I play what people feel," she tells me, her eyes never leaving the broken half angel.

"He wants help," Cassie speaks softly.

My first reaction to learning this is anger. He has the nerve to show his face and ask for assistance? Doesn't sound like he's changed much, which makes me suspicious. Exactly what diabolical plan does he have up his sleeve this time?

"With what?" I want to know before I let myself get too enraged. Cassie sighs and slowly sits up. Juliana gently places her guitar on the living room floor and quietly excuses herself to the kitchen.

"It's about my mom," she tells me. "You know how she gave herself to Crowley?"

"Yeah," I nod as I softly take a seat beside her.

"He wants to get her out," she tells me.

At least he's not trying to steal more souls from some other after life.

Juliana returns with two glasses of whiskey, one of which she sets in front of Cassie.

"So, what are you going to do?" I gently press her for more details. Cassie shrugs as she takes a slow sip from her glass.

"I don't know," she admits. "It's not just my help he wants, so it's not really my decision."

"Let me guess," I say. "He wants me and Bobby to chip in?"

Cassie nods and I sigh. There's one thing in this universe that could get me to help Castiel, and it's Cassie. Where trust is concerned, I have zero for that back stabbing bastard angel. But I have a lot for his daughter. And it is her mom.

"It is your decision, Cassie," I tell her, attempting to comfort her rattled mind by giving her hand an encouraging squeeze. "Whatever you decide, I'll stand by you."

And I will. I'd do anything for her. She's like a sister to me. Truth be told, without Cassie, I don't know what I would have done.


	5. 5 - Castiel

**Castiel**

I'm in Rome searching the libraries and vaults when it happens. A vision comes to me of a darkened figure walking against a bone chilling wind that blows violently across a great tundra of ice and snow. As it grows closer I can see the black, mutated face of a demon that possesses a man with thick arms and blonde hair. When it stops, it stares dead ahead, seemingly right at me. But it's not staring at me, not really. What it's staring at is the dead and frozen corpse of Dean Winchester.

Sam and Cassandra are both under the impression Dean's body was incinerated, as are most that knew him. The fact is, he wasn't. When I returned everyone to Bobby's, I collected his remains before the site could be destroyed and I relocated him to what you call the "North Pole". Dean will need a body when I find a way to pull him from Hell.

I am able see all this with the aid of the Enochian spell I placed upon his body. And it's a good thing I did, because this demon knows exactly what he's looking for. What could a demon possibly want with Dean's body?

The demon chisels the corpse from the ice it has become encased in. He undoes Dean's shirt enough to expose the star tattoo near his heart. I watch the demon douse this ink marking in lighter fluid before striking a single match which he allows to fall from his fingertips. A small fire ignites, consuming the tattoo before the demon puts it out.

It hits me when a thick cloud of that familiar black smoke exchanges hosts.

This demon is Dean.

"Crowley..." I mutter. I know what he's up to. He's turning my friends into demons before their time as a form of torture directed at me. Adeline he made his queen to watch my heart break and he's sent Dean to kill me so he can watch me die at the hands of my best friend.

At least Dean's as far north as I could get him. It'll be weeks before he makes it to Bobby's. It doesn't take a genius to figure out it's the first place he'd go.

A sudden ringing noise distracts me from watching Dean's revival and returns my mind to the vault I stand within. I manage to fish the small black cell phone out of my pocket before it's too late. The numbers that flash across the bright screen are not completely familiar, but I know it's Cassandra. She's the only one who has my number.

"Where are you?" I speak into the small device.

"Bobby's..."

I am no longer in Rome but rather in Bobby's cluttered, dingy living room. Cassandra sits quietly on the tattered old couch as Bobby silently sips his noon day Scotch behind his desk. Sam stands beside him, his arms folded as he looks to me with a grave air of distrust.

"Hello, Bobby," I nod politely at the haggard aging man who grunts in response. "Hello, Sam."

"Cas," Sam is short with his greeting. They don't want me here, none of them. Not really. Understandably so.

"I take it you've decided to help me?" I speak in my daughter's direction, my eyes resting lovingly upon her.

"Yeah," she barely looks at me as she confirms my suspicions.

"Good," I say with a grateful breath. "Thank you."

You can't imagine the relief I feel knowing my daughter is agreeing to help me. To be perfectly honest, I'm surprised she called at all. I'm even more surprised she managed to convince Bobby and Sam to go along with it. None of them owe me a damn thing and I probably don't deserve to even be standing in the same room with them.

"Explain why you need our help," Sam requests of me, his cold and reluctant demeanor never wavering. "You pulled Dean out of the pit once. Why not Cassie's mom?"

"When I pulled your brother from Hell," I begin to explain. "I was not alone and I was still in the good graces of Heaven. But now..."

I pause to glance again at my daughter who carries a saddened expression across her beautiful face.

"Now I have been cast out and now Adeline is a demon."

Cassandra looks up at this and I can tell she's fighting tears that threaten to escape.

"Besides," I continue, my eyes sweeping to Sam. "We all know what happened the last time I tried to retrieve someone from Hell myself."

"So we're looking for some kind of spell or potion to turn Adeline into... what exactly?" Sam ignores my last statement completely, trying to push away the terrible memories it provokes.

"Herself," I answer simply.

"Is that even possible?" he challenges.

"Anything is possible," I tell him calmly.

Sam lets out a frustrated sigh. He doesn't want to do this, and I know he's not doing this for me. He's doing this for Cassandra. He'd follow her to the end of the earth if she asked him to. Not because he feels like he owes her for mending his shattered soul, but because he trusts and, more importantly, loves her. It brings a great sense of comfort knowing he cares so deeply for my daughter.

"A demon is nothing more than a broken, tarnished soul," I slowly continue. "I simply need a way to reassemble her. A light to override the darkness."

The three of them ponder my words for a moment. They doubt there's a way to help my beloved Adeline, but mostly they doubt me. I'll let them, because I know I can earn their trust again.

"Is that all?" Cassandra's lips speak at last, but what she means is "please leave".

I hope someday my visits won't pain her.

"Yes," I nod, bringing my eyes back to her. "For now."

I pause to give her a small smile of encouragement.

"I promise you, Cassandra, I'll get your mother back. Even if I have to go through Hell to get her myself."


	6. 6 - Cassandra

**Cassandra**

He doesn't deserve my help. Not after all he's done. Despite everything, I'm going to do it. Not because I want to, but because it's the right thing to do. Because it's who I am and because I'm not doing this for him. I'm doing this for mom.

We're not sure where to even begin our search. All of us are well versed when it comes to the strange, the supernatural and the downright weird but this is something none of us have ever even thought about. Bobby and Jody dig out books by the crate full and Sam takes to the internet. I find myself taking two, sometimes three trips to the library on a daily basis. Even Juliana chips in, accepting the challenge with an excitement I find somewhat strange.

"I've been around a while," she tells me when I ask her about it. "I've seen about all there is to see. When something completely new pops up, I'm taking that challenge."

So we let her help. Even with the five of us utilizing every second of our free time to search, it takes us more than a month to find anything remotely close to what Castiel is looking for and even then it turns out to be the same summoning spell my fallen angel of a father already tried using.

"I'm just gonna get this out of the way and say it," Bobby says as he flips through weathered old pages of ancient looking books. "I'm not gonna do this forever. If we're still sitting here in a year with nothing but this damn summoning spell, I'm done. I don't have all that much time left and I sure as hell ain't gonna spend it helping that sorry sack of crap angel. No offense, Cassie."

None taken. I don't blame him. I already feel like quitting and we've barely just begun.

It's for mom, I have to keep reminding myself. Not him.

For a minuet the lights flicker before a loud knock at the front door penetrates the house, distracting me from the giant book that sits open in my lap on the couch. Sam looks up from his computer and Juliana pauses in selecting a new book from the shelf.

Flickering lights is never a good sign.

"Is that Jody?" Sam asks hopefully, glancing at the clock on his computer. 1:02 AM.

"Don't think so," Bobby says guardedly as he rises to his feet. "She usually just invites herself in."

He cautiously makes his way to the front door while Sam, Juliana and I debate staying put or following.

"Hey, Cassie," Bobby calls warily through the house. "Can you come here a sec?"

Sam and I exchange a curious glance before we put our research tools down and carefully stride away from the living room. With each step I make towards Bobby, my gut sinks. Something's not right. No. Something's terribly wrong.

When I reach the front door, I understand these nervous sensations. In the door frame stands the recognizable figure of Dean. It's not just Dean's figure I see, but the black and twisted thing that controls his body.

"Well?" Bobby asks me. "Is it him?"

I blink, frozen in horror at what I see as Sam stares with wide eyes, his heart beating rapidly within his chest. Dean stares back at us with a hopeful and kind smile I can't tell if I can trust. I don't know if I want to throw up or scream.

"Yes," I nod quietly at last as tears begin to swell hot behind my eyes. "Unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?" Sam echoes and I nod, my eyes unable to leave the creature that stands before us. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Would you like to show them?" I ask the demon. "Or should I get some holy water?"

Dean's eyes turn black in a flash, causing Bobby and Sam to scramble for salt, holy water, anything in the vicinity that can protect us.

"Woah, woah," Dean tries to calm them down. "Take it easy. I'm not here to hurt any of you."

When he invites himself into the house, Bobby gets off a round of rock salt that burns into Dean's chest. He groans as he stumbles backwards but finds he can't fall too far back. Just beneath the rug drawn in red paint is a demon trap.

"Damn it," Dean growls in temporary pain. "I said, take it easy."

"What's going on?" Juliana quickly joins us. "I heard a gun. It's smelling a little sulfury in... demon!"

Her eyes go black as her fangs spring forward and she prepares herself for a fight.

"You got a vampire in the house?" Dean almost cries. "I'm gone a year and you're playing with monsters again?"

Juliana's eyes return to their natural teal color as her fangs retract once more.

"You're Dean," she all but whispers her realization.

"Yeah," Dean spits. "Who the hell are you?"

"Woah, okay," Sam steps in. "First of all, I don't think you're in much of a position to be calling anybody a monster. Second, this is my girlfriend, Juliana."

"Of course you're dating her," Dean mutters as he rolls his eyes. "Fine. Whatever. Just let me out of here would you?"

"Not until you tell us why you're here," Bobby growls with his sawed off shot gun aimed directly at Dean's head.

Dean groans in annoyance.

"A guy can't visit his family?" he says.

"Not when they're supposed to be dead," is Bobby's response to this.

"Trust me," Dean mumbles. "I am."

For a moment Dean just looks at me and, for the first time, I can't tell what he's feeling. I can't even be sure what I'm feeling. Here stands demon Dean, dead and in the flesh, one year after we said our goodbyes. It's heart wrenching to see him this way, all demonic and dark.

"Look," he says at last when no one comes to his aid. "I just got out of the pit after being down there a whole friggin year. Of course I wanted to come see you guys."

"That's really why you're here?" Bobby asks him suspiciously.

"Yes," Dean breaths. "Well, that and to kill Castiel."


	7. 7 - Sam

**Sam**

I miss Dean dearly, I really do. This thing that stands before us isn't Dean. Well, technically it is, but it isn't at the same time.

I wish he hadn't come here. I finally felt like I had gotten my life back together and now it's all crashing down again. Seeing him reminds me it should have been me. If Cassie hadn't used up all her powers to rebuild my soul, Dean would be alive right now.

"Well? Are you guys just going to stare at me all night or are one of you going to help me out of here?"

Quite frankly, we're not sure what to do about him. We remain still, the four of us warily eyeing the demonized version of my older brother. There's a good chance this is more heart breaking than watching him die.

"Well this is a happy home coming," Dean mutters sarcastically when nobody moves. "Can I at least get a chair? Or a friggin' drink?"

Bobby silently retrieves a chair from the kitchen and slides it in Dean's direction.

"I get it," Dean continues, taking a seat. "I'm a demon. You don't know if you can trust me and all that."

We remain still and quiet. When it comes to words, we have none. We're still trying to allow the shock to settle.

"How... how did you get out?" Cassie is the first one to choke out a question. She looks like she's about to burst into tears and I could swear, for a split second, the lights flicker again.

"Crowley sent me up here," Dean replies smoothly without hesitance. "He wants me to do his dirty work."

"He wants you to kill Castiel," I speculate, to which Dean nods.

"Yahtzee," he confirms. "You guys haven't seen him around, have you?"

"God only knows where he is," Cassie is quick to tell him.

Truthfully, I don't think Cassie cares whether or not Dean kills her father. She's become more involved in finding a way to save her mom than she realizes and something tells me she's prepared to do whatever it takes to keep Castiel alive until they call pull Adeline from Hell.

"Oh well," Dean sighs. "I'm not really in a big fat hurry to get back to the pit anyway."

"What makes you think he's on earth?" Cassie tries to trick Dean into telling us what exactly he knows. "He probably went back to Heaven."

"Please," Dean rolls his eyes. "You think they'd let him back in? After what he did? There wasn't anything up there for him, anyway." He pauses to give Cassie a small, sorrowful look. "I'm sorry, Cassie, but your mom..."

"She's in Hell," Cassie finishes quickly. "Yeah, I watched her give herself to Crowley."

Dean shakes his head sadly.

"She's not just in Hell," he tells her. "She's the demon queen of Hell."

Castiel failed to mention that small detail. Cassie's either stopped breathing or she's breathing so hard her face has gone pale as the lights seem to flicker once more. Juliana places a gentle hand upon Cassie's shoulder, attempting to comfort the grief stricken girl, something that clearly agitates Dean.

Great. Not only is my brother a demon, he hates my girlfriend.

"Look," he mutters at last. "I'm seriously not here to hurt any of you. I've got no alternative motive for coming. I just missed you, alright? Now, can someone please let me out of here?"

"Sorry," Bobby shakes his head. "I gotta sleep on that one."

Dean groans.

"You know demons don't sleep, right?" he says.

"Yep," Bobby nods. "It's gonna be a long and boring night for you."

"Sammy?" Dean tries but I don't respond. "Cassie?"

I look to Cassie. Half of her wants to rush to him, to free him from his trap and wrap her small arms around him. The other half wants to get one of Bobby's books out and exorcise him.

"Fine," he snorts. "I'll just sit here until you decide what to do with me." He pauses, looking over Cassie as if he knows what she's thinking. "You can exorcise me if you'd like. Crowley will just bring me back."

"I guess we'll just see you in the morning then," is Cassie's response, her eyes studying him with a deep intensity. She wants so badly to trust him. We all do. But we know better than to trust a demon, even if is Dean.

After a moment of silently taking in the dark remains of my brother, Cassie wordlessly slips by him and out the front door. Juliana gently places her hand in mine and together we quietly follow her.

"Seriously, Sammy?" I hear Dean call, but I don't look back. Instead I allow Juliana to lead me into the still night, away from the problems I'm only going to have to face in the morning. At least I'll have time to let this all sink in.


	8. 8 - Cassandra

**Cassandra**

I wait until sometime after sun up to go back, making sure Juliana is fast asleep before I take my leave. If she knew what I was up to, she'd try to talk me out of it. I appreciate her concern, but I know what I'm doing.

I invite myself into Bobby's, spotting Dean in his chair by the door. He looks up with a hopeful excitement when he hears the door creak open, a surprised expression unfolding upon his face when he sees I have come alone.

"Where's Bobby?" I ask in a near whisper.

"Out back with Jody," Dean tells me quietly. "What's going on with them?"

"They're sweet on each other," I reply as I slowly close the door behind me. "Nothing more, nothing less."

"Ah," Dean nods. "Where's Sammy?"

"Asleep."

For a minuet we gaze in silence at each other, both longing for the good old days when he was my protector, my grand amour, and life was a glorious wonder. I almost can't look at him in his current state of existence. Loosing him was hard enough, but this is almost too much.

"Why are you here?" I ask him at last as I slowly sit upon on the floor beyond Dean's reach.

"I told you," he says with a small sigh.

"Why are you really here?"

He sighs again.

"Look, I'm sorry," he begins. "I realize now I shouldn't have come. But I couldn't help it, Cassie. I just... I had to see you. And as soon as I got out of that pit, all I could think about was getting back to you."

I'm not sure what to say. I want so very badly to believe him, and there's a chance I just might.

"Time is different down there," he continues when I don't respond. "A month up here is ten years down there. I know it's only been a year, but to me, I've gone more than a century without seeing you."

I try to restrain the tears that threaten to spill at this thought.

"Oh, Dean," I speak barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?" he furrows his brow.

"If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be..."

"Cassie, stop," he interrupts me, his eyes on mine. "You didn't do this."

"My brother..."

"You didn't do this," he repeats firmly. "Besides, Adelay got his, didn't he?"

"You heard about that?" I wonder aloud and he nods.

"I met your mother, too," he tells me somewhat reluctantly. "She says hello, by the way."

I don't even know what to think of that. So I ignore it.

"Why did you go to Hell?" I can't help but ask, as much as I know I won't like the answer.

"I think that's a story for another time," he tells me quietly. It's not the response I had been looking for, but for now I'll allow his vagueness. As far as I can tell, for a demon, he's being honest. At least I'm willing to pretend he is.

Gradually I lift the rug from the floor. From my jean's pocket I carefully take out a pocket knife which I use to scrape away enough of the demon trap to free the creature that used to be my beloved Dean. He watches me with a mixed look of bewilderment and gratitude.

"What the hell..." I can hear Bobby's disappointed mutterings from somewhere behind me. "Cassie? What are you doing?"

I turn to see Bobby and Jody standing with sawed off shot guns and jugs of holy water.

"Damn it, guys," Dean groans. "Aren't you being a little paranoid?"

"You forget who you're talkin' to?" Bobby questions.

"Calm down," I beg anyone who's willing to listen as I rise to my feet. "Bobby. Jody. You trust me, right?"

They slowly nod to confirm this.

"Alright. Then lets put down the guns and just talk about this."

"Fine," Bobby all but spits. "But I'm keeping the water."

Jody and Bobby both begrudgingly relinquish their weapons to the floor below as Dean slowly rises to his feet and edges his way from the now opened trap.

"Now," I say, speaking directly to Bobby. "Dean feels like he has some unfinished business here. He's not here to trick us, hurt us or kill us. Got it?"

Bobby doesn't say anything. He doesn't even acknowledge he's heard me. He gazes hard through narrowed eyes at Dean. He's angry, he's hurt but, above all, he's sad.

"Let's just let him do what he needs to do, alright?" I continue. Bobby frowns at this as he glances to me.

"You realize that means killing Cas, right?" he asks me.

"Not only do you not care, Bobby," I say with a long and tired sigh. "I don't really care either. Besides, he'll have to find Castiel first."

I've hardly finished my sentence when my phone vibrates inside my jacket pocket. When I pull it out and look at the numbers my heart nearly stops. Terrible timing, dad.

"I should take this," I say quickly before looking to Dean. "Don't make me regret freeing you."

As much as it pains me, I leave him with this mostly empty warning. I want so badly to throw my arms around him, kiss him, pretend like nothing's changed. But I can't. Because everything's changed and because I'm still uncertain I can fully trust him.

I wait until I'm well out of ear shot to answer my still vibrating phone.

"What?" is how I take my father's call.

"Is everything alright?" he speaks hurriedly.

"Uh... not really..." I fumble, not sure how to reply.

"Where are you?" he wants to know.

"The end of Bobby's drive way," I tell him, adding quickly, "but I don't think you should..."

I can't even finish my sentence before he stands in front of me. Crap.

I meant it when I told Bobby I didn't care whether or not Dean kills my father. I would, however, prefer it come after we've assured my mother's safe return from Hell.

"You shouldn't be here right now," I tell him but before I can explain, he's taken a firm hold of my wrist and, quite suddenly, we're standing in my kitchen. This simple action triggers memories of my father that don't actually belong to me. He used to move my mom around this way and, for a split second, I almost feel guilty for just about giving Dean my permission to execute. Castiel, dad, he really does care, and for some reason it's the first time I've allowed myself to sense this about him.

It doesn't excuse him from failing to mention my mother's high ranking position in the pit.

"Mom is Crowley's queen?" it falls from my lips in a fit of fury.

"Yes," Castiel admits, his eyes falling to the floor in embarrassment and sorrow. "Dean must have told you."

"You know about Dean, too?" I have trouble calming my tone and, as my words flow with an angry irritation, a lonely pint glass splits in half beside the empty kitchen sink. Castiel notices this with a curious, sideways glance but I ignore it.

"Castiel, I'm trying to trust you here," I continue, trying to focus on the conversation at hand. "It's kind of hard to do that when you don't tell me crap."

"I'm sorry, Cassandra," my father apologizes. "I should have told you about your mother. As far as Dean was concerned, I wasn't sure what to say. You seemed adamant on leaving him alone."

"That was before I knew he was in Hell," I point out.

"I know," he nods. "I was hoping you wouldn't find out about that. With the pain you've had to endure this far, I wasn't sure you could take knowing where he had gone."

"Well, he showed up at Bobby's yesterday," I say to which Castiel nods again. He fills me in on how he preserved Dean's corpse, how he bound it with an Enochian spell to keep track of it and how he still plans on finding a way to cleanse the darkness that tarnishes his friend.

"You know he wants to kill you, right?" I have to ask.

"Yes," my father confirms with an unconcerned air. "That doesn't mean I shouldn't try to save him."

This must be what he was like before his obsession with Purgatory transformed him into a vengeful, power hungry and negligent father.

"Look," I sigh at last. "As far as Dean knows, you're missing in action. I'll let him think that as long as I need to, but I can't protect you from him."

"I don't need you to," Castiel tells me with a small, knowing smile that attempts to call my bluff. I could actually protect him if it comes down to it. The question is will I want to?


	9. 9 - Sam

**Sam**

I don't get much sleep. How could I? Dean's unexpected visit left me on edge, to say the least. Any sleep I did manage I credit to Juliana. It's wonderful how she can calm me down just by simply being there. I love that about her.

When I wake up, Cassie tells me she freed Dean. I don't respond to this, but I allow it to dwell upon me as I attempt a somewhat normal day. I mow the neighbor's lawn, I fix a broken washing machine for the widow down the street, swing by the library to do more research and help a nice, little old woman move boxes from her attic to the Good Will. It takes me the entire day to muster up the courage to drive to Bobby's and face my demon brother and even then I just drive home.

He's there when I arrive, sitting silently by himself on the front stoop of the porch with a bottle of whiskey clutched tightly in his fist. I don't know why I assumed he would still be at Bobby's. I know the old man doesn't want this version of Dean hanging around and I don't blame him.

"Hey," Dean greets me when I slowly approach him.

"Hey," I return before we exchange an awkward moment of silence. "What... ah... what are you doing here?"

"What?" Dean responds. "A guy can't come check out his brother's new house?"

I furrow my brow at this.

"I think we're a little past pretending like nothing's changed," I tell him and he can't help but roll his eyes.

"I just came to talk," he says. "You don't even have to invite me in."

I take a long, hard look at him. Honestly, I don't know what to do. Part of me wants to sit down with a beer or two and catch up with my brother. The other part of me wants to send him on his way with little more than a quick goodbye.

I can't determine his intentions. Deep down I know he wanted to see me, to see Cassie. I'm just not sure if that was a bonus in some grander scheme of Crowley's or if he really did detour his search for Castiel just to see us.

"No, it's fine," I say at last with a heavy sigh. "You can come in."

I lead the way into the darkened house, turning on lights and pointing out the demon trap under the rug by the front door. I don't tell him about the others we've scattered about the house. Just in case.

"Nice place," Dean comments as he takes a look around the small living room and adjacent dining room. "You're renting?"

"We own it," I tell him. "Well, technically Sam and Cassie Remmington own it."

"Cute," Dean mutters. "You got glasses? I got booze."

I retrieve a couple of glasses from the kitchen and when I return I find Dean flipping through a collection of vinyl records Juliana keeps in an old wine crate by the TV.

"When'd you start listening to records?" he casually asks me and I can't help but wonder how long he's going to make small talk.

"Those are Juliana's," I inform him, something Dean finds pleasantly surprising.

"At least she's got good taste in music," he mutters before he draws his attention back to me. "Where's Cassie?"

"Probably with Juliana," I speculate as I take the bottle from his hands and pour us each a triple shot.

"I can't believe you're dating a vampire," Dean sighs disapprovingly and I roll my eyes.

"You wouldn't say that if you knew her," I defend as I watch him sip from his glass. "If you came here to talk about my choice in girlfriends, I'd prefer it if you just left."

"I'm sorry," Dean gives me a half sincere apology. "It's just really weird."

"And this isn't?" I retort. "You're a demon, Dean. Did you really think you could come back like nothing happened?" I pause to let him respond and continue when he doesn't. "You know I can never trust you again, right?"

"Trust me, don't trust me," Dean grumbles. "It doesn't really matter. I'm not planing on sticking around for long. I can tell when I'm not wanted."

I sigh.

"It's not that we don't want you here, Dean," I try to explain. "It's just... we had a really hard time moving on after you died. We were finally starting to feel like everything was going to be alright and you come back, but it's not you. It's..."

"Demon me," Dean finishes for me before taking a long gulp from his glass. "Yeah, I get it."

He pauses to think over his next words. My brother has never been good at apologies, or at being open about anything. I'm sure, as a demon, it's even harder for him to express certain emotions beyond anger.

"Look," he slowly begins at last after downing the rest of his drink. "I came by to tell you that I'm sorry. For everything. Especially your broken head."

"That wasn't your fault," I feel like I'm telling him this for the millionth time. I knew this is probably what he's been thinking about down in Hell.

"It was," he insists, helping himself to another tall glass. "If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have fallen into the pit and..."

"Dean, seriously," I cut him off with a loud and firm voice. "You have got to let that go. None of this is your fault."

He doesn't believe me. He doesn't have a chance to argue with me because, shortly after the words have been spoken, Juliana swings the front door open. For a minuet she simply stands there, giving a quick and uneasy glance in Dean's direction before she can focus her eyes upon me.

"Hey," I greet. "Where's Cassie?"

"She's behind me," Juliana explains slowly. "I'm here for the fair warning." Pause. "Also, this is not my fault."

Before I can even start to wonder what this means, I hear it. It's kind of hard to miss.

"Saaaaaaam!"

The slurred yell comes from Cassie's lips as she stumbles into the house. Her eyes are glazed over and she walks with heavy feet as she fumbles her way towards me and wraps her tiny arms around my not so tiny frame.

"Sam, I missed you," she slurs and I can smell the alcohol that radiates from her breath.

"I saw you this morning," I point out. "You're drunk."

"Don't tell Dean," she tells me as she nods, then giggles when she looks at Dean who is far from impressed.

"You got her drunk?" Dean accuses my girlfriend.

"Did you miss my disclaimer two friggin minuets ago?" Juliana shoots back.

She likes Dean about as much as he likes her and it shows. I know she wants to keep things civil for both me and Cassie, but at the same time I wouldn't be surprised if they brake into some kind of epic battle right here in the living room.

For a split second, I find the humor in all this. My demon brother is yelling at my vampire girlfriend who got the half angel drunk. Dad's probably spinning in his grave right about now.

"S'okay," Cassie says as she sways in her spot somewhere between me and Dean. "I got myself like this and it's all okay."

She throws an unstable arm around me and leans into me for a moment.

"Have I told you yet today that I love you?" she asks.

"Um, no," I reply. "But I love you too."

"Dean," she says, turning her drunken affections to my brother with a long and hard hug. "I don't care if you're a demon. I'll always love you."

She may be drunk, but I know she means it. For a minuet, it looks like Dean's about to cry as he wraps his own arms around her small frame. In Hell time, it's been over 120 years since he last experienced her loving embrace and, demon or not, I can tell he's not taking a second of this for granted.

If it weren't for the sudden phone call, I'm almost positive they would have stayed that way the rest of the night. Or until Cassie sobered up.

"My butt's ringing," Cassie giggles as she pulls away from Dean to retrieve her phone from the back pocket of her black jeans. "Bobb-A! Wha's the word? What? With the what? Who? 'Kay, hold on."

She thrusts the phone at me as she leans into Dean to support her wobbly structure.

"Hey, Bobby," I say, excusing myself into the kitchen.

"Is she drunk?" Bobby asks.

"Yeah," I sigh. "What's up?"

"I might have found something," Bobby tells me. "Tell Cassie to come over when she wakes up in the morning. I need her to translate something."

What could Bobby possibly need help translating?

I glance to the living room where I see Juliana and Dean arguing who's going to put Cassie to bed.

It's been a long day.

"Bobby, I gotta go. I'll talk to you tomorrow."


	10. 10 - Cassandra

**Cassandra**

My head feels like it's going to explode. Or maybe it's already exploded.

I drank far too much last night.

Gradually I allow my eyes to flutter open. I'm all about just lying in bed until my hoodoo kicks in and I no longer feel the nauseous pains of this wretched tequila hangover. That is until I spot Dean trifling through the top drawer of my dresser.

"What the..." I half gasp, half mutter as I bolt upright. Dean glances over to me and offers a small smile before he goes back to looking over the fake badges and identification cards I keep stowed in the particular drawer he's opened.

"You're still hunting," he comments.

"Um... yeah..." I shake my weary and throbbing mind. I'm missing a chunk of last night from my memory bank.

"What... what happened last night?" I ask. "How did I get here? Why are you here?"

Dean puts my badges away and gently sits on the edge of the bed.

"You started to fade pretty fast after Bobby called," he tries to fill in the blanks. "I carried you to bed which is when we realized you have a very well hidden demon trap somewhere in here."

Right. The invisible one on the ceiling I drew in some kind of witch ink I picked up during a case months back. I forgot it was there.

I try to focus enough energy on healing my hangover. Slowly my head stops throbbing, the soft light that pours through the windows don't burn my eyes and every little noise ceases to be deafening.

"Did you mean what you said last night?" Dean asks me as I force myself to heal.

I don't pretend like I don't know what he's talking about. I actually vividly remember what I said.

"Yes," I tell him without hesitance. "Of course I did."

He nods and can't help the small smile that crosses his lips.

"Me too," he says and it almost makes me cry.

It takes a lot for me to restrain myself from throwing my arms around him again, from pulling him into me and placing a long and tender kiss upon his lips. I want to, more than anything, but I know I can't. It wouldn't be the same. It will never be the same.

"You're still here?" Sam stops in the doorway, his gaze upon Dean.

"She just got up," Dean replies, standing to face his brother.

"Where's the trap?" Sam asks me, obviously ready for his house to be demon free.

I point to the approximate location of the circle and he brings forth a blade. Not just any blade. The demon blade. The way Dean eyes the object, I know it pains him more than it frightens him.

"You've got to be friggin' kidding," Dean all but spits as Sam manages to scrape enough of the trap away without using a chair.

"It was the first knife I saw, Dean," Sam tries to explain what looks like an incredibly hostile gesture.

"Whatever," Dean brushes past Sam and I feel compelled to chase them down the hall and into the living room. "I get it. There's only one way I can prove I'm not here to stir shit up and that's by leaving."

He pulls the door open with a mighty swing before he gives me a long, sorrowful look. And he's gone. As quickly as he came. I can't tell if I should be glad, angry or morose.

I hear Juliana quietly enter from the kitchen. I can also hear the sound of glass shattering and I don't need to turn around to know Juliana's probably now holding a broken mug and soaked in blood from the waist down.

"Alright," she speaks calmly, though somewhat upset I've ruined her breakfast. "I wasn't going to say anything about the lights, but this? I can't ignore this one."

When I finally turn, I see a confused looking Sam standing beside Juliana who is, as predicted, covered in blood. She clutches a porcelain handle in her fist, the only piece that remains of what used to be a black coffee mug.

"How long have your powers been back, Cassie?"

I sigh. I knew I couldn't keep this a secret for long.

"Shortly after Castiel started showing up again," I tell them honestly. "They've... they've gradually been coming back to me."

I really didn't want to say anything, mostly because I don't really want them. Not anymore. I don't need them and, quiet honestly, I feel like it's almost too late. I didn't have them when Dean was dying, what meaning do hold for me now?

"Why didn't you say anything?" Sam asks which provokes another sigh to roll from my lips.

"At first I didn't really know what was going on," I slowly speak. "I didn't want to say anything in case it was, I don't know, a fluke."

"What about now?" Sam wants to know.

"Now?" I echo as I ponder how to word my response. "I don't know. I guess... I guess I don't really want them. I figured if no one knew..."

"You wouldn't have to use them?" Juliana finishes for me. "Don't worry about that, sweet heart. We're not going to ask you to do anything you don't want to. But you do have them and you need to find a way to control it before you accidentally blow up a gas station or something."

"Sorry," I can feel my face flushing. "I've had a hard time controlling it the last couple of days."

There's really no wonder as to why. Wild emotions equal wild energy. It's been a while since I've had to control such things. I'm out of practice and, to be perfectly honest, I almost feel stronger than before. As if it's harder for me to control because it's more intense than what I'm accustom to handling.

"It's fine," she assures me kindly. "You'll get the hang of it. Just don't touch me for a while."

She's heard the stories of how I used to slay vampires and I'm sure my powers are intimidating to her, despite her age and experience.

"We should get going to Bobby's," Sam tells me. "He needs you to translate something for him."

Must be Enochian. He's on to something, a thought that fills me with a great relief. There's hope I can still save my mother and Dean. I know nothing can ever be the same, but I don't care. They deserve a better eternity, whether I'm in it or not.


	11. 11 - Castiel

**Castiel**

My eyes are scanning the pages of ancient scrolls lost in the great desert you call the Sahara when Cassandra calls me with some excellent news.

"We found something," she tells me and with the blink of an eye, I'm standing in Bobby's cluttered living room. Cassandra sits behind Bobby's desk with a book more ancient than the lost scrolls I had just been going over as Bobby paces behind her with a glass of Scotch. Sam rests on the couch with his girlfriend who manages to contain her razor sharp fangs this time.

"Hello," I say to anyone willing to accept my greeting. "Tell me, what have you found?"

"It's a potion, I think," my daughter says, her eyes between the book that lays open before her and myself. "It's in Enochian. You're welcome to read it."

"I'm confident in your Enochian fluency," I tell her with a small smile. "What does it say?"

"It looks like a list of ingredients," she scans the words that make sense to no one in the room but her and me. "It says you need five drops of essence from five creatures who once were men."

"That shouldn't be too hard," Sam speculates with a splash of hopefulness in his voice. "There are windegos, werewolves, skin walkers..."

Cassandra shakes her head.

"To be gathered after the second stopping of their heart," she finishes.

"Basically you have to kill something undead," Bobby clarifies for anyone who's a bit lost. "I'm guessing by essence they mean blood?"

Both Cassandra and I nod to confirm this.

"Let's see," Sam begins to ponder the specific monsters we'll need to slay for this concoction. "Zombies. Ghouls."

"Vampires," Juliana speaks up and, for a moment, Sam and Cassandra seem surprised she's the one who mentioned it. "What? We are."

"Right, vampires," Sam slowly adds. "That's three. We need two more."

"What about Jiang Shi?" Bobby tosses the Chinese oriented creature up for debate and Juliana nods in agreement. "They're kinda like a cross between vampires and zombies."

"Alright, that's four," Sam counts. "We need one more."

"I've got it," Bobby snaps his fingers. "A revenant."

"Perfect," Juliana agrees, as do I.

"What else does this recipe call for?" I urge Cassandra to continue.

"Expose the combined essence to pure light for three days," she reads. "I assume that means the sun. I'm not really sure what to make of this last part."

"What's it say?" Bobby is eager to know, as we all are.

"You have to stop the heart of a creature created from love, not seed," she slowly reads. "To be slain only at the hands of their beloved. Ten drops of this essence, diluted in equal parts of holy water for three days will be added and must be blessed by a true man of God."

My settle eyes upon Cassandra. At first I can't tell if she doesn't fully grasp what these words mean, or if she doesn't want to admit she does. A creature created from love, not seed. That's her, my daughter. Slain only at the hands of the beloved? Dean.

The way she looks at me tells me she knows this.

"I understand if you don't want to do this, Cassandra," I speak softly. "I don't mean to attempt an influence in your decision, but your chances of staying dead are about one in a trillion."

"What's he talking about?" Bobby says, looking between us with a puzzled expression on his face.

"I wasn't created through seed," she explains it to him.

"So you're a love child," Bobby comments. "In the most literal sense possible. Which means Dean would have to kill you."

"Yes," Cassandra nods.

"What's this not staying dead business?" he wants to know to which Cassandra lets out a small sigh.

"I can't just die," she gradually begins with a great hesitance. "I mean, I can. Just not as easily as most."

"How do you figure?" Bobby grills her.

"Besides the fact I'm half celestial?" Cassandra tries to explain. "And the fact I've technically died twice now? My abilities have been coming back and I'd thank you to keep that to yourself."

"I don't expect an answer from you today, Cassandra," I tell her. "And I don't expect you to risk your life for this. I've taken enough from you. Take as long as you need to think about this. In the mean time, I trust you will not inform Dean of our research?"

"He left this morning," Sam tells me.

"He almost left," I correct him. "I've been tracking his whereabouts. He turned around after exchanging a short phone call with Crowley."

"What did Crowley say?" Sam wants to know.

"I couldn't hear the conversation," I admit. "Which means we have all the more reasons to be cautious around him. I know it will be hard but do not, under any circumstances, trust Dean."

"Done," Juliana makes a quick comment and Sam rolls his eyes.

"Call me if you need anything," I tell Cassandra before I take my sudden departure.

I'm uncertain how to feel. There's hope knowing we have the recipe to bring back my beloved Adeline and my old friend Dean. Knowing my daughter will have to die to resurrect them is, at the very least, troublesome. Granted, there's a slim chance she would stay dead. But I can't ask her for her life. Asking for their help alone is too much.

Father, I know you're probably not listening, but if there's any way you could find enough compassion to help your fallen son down the right path, I swear I'll never ask you of anything again.


	12. 12 - Cassandra

**Cassandra**

A solid week and a half passes and nobody's heard from Dean. Jody finds a slew of suspicious deaths somewhere in Nebraska, so Sam and Juliana check it out. My mind's too preoccupied, too lost in thought to even try to hunt. Sam's is, too, but I know he sees this case as a way to focus on something else for a while.

So I enjoy the solitude of an empty house for a few days. I clean, I meditate, I listen to Juliana's records as loud as the speakers will allow. I try an "herbal cigarette" a young man at a road side clean up gave me and spend an afternoon eating whatever I can find in the refrigerator that's covered in cheese or chocolate while Zeppelin plays in the background. Simply, I relish the complete and utter calm of being alone with nothing but my thoughts.

That is until the end of day three when Dean shows up and shatters the quietude.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," I pretend to be surprised when I open the door.

Lie.

"I guess I couldn't stay away," is what he tells me in return. "Is Sam here?"

"No," I shake my head. "He and Juliana are investigating some strange deaths in Nebraska."

"The vampire is a hunter?" Dean wonders aloud with a hint of amusement to his tone. "How come you didn't go?"

"It didn't really sound like a three person case," is what I tell him.

Lie.

"Can I come in?" he gives me a hopeful look and I can't help but let him inside.

"Look, Cassie," he speaks as he slowly steps into the small house. "I'm sorry I took off like I did the other week. I'm a little easier to piss off these days."

"It's okay," I tell him. "I understand."

For a moment we don't speak as I think about what his cure will cost. To be perfectly honest, it's not the dying part that scares me. The miniscule chance I won't be revived doesn't even worry me. I would die for him and my mom. What frightens me is he's the one who has to kill me.

"You wouldn't happen to have anything to drink around here, would you?" Dean breaks the somewhat awkward silence and my concentration.

"Um, yeah," I shake my head. "I think there's some beer in the fridge."

I retrieve us each a bottle of Colorado brewed ale and return to the living room where I see Dean has invited himself to take a seat on the old, cream colored couch beneath the front window. Handing him a beer I take my own seat on the opposite end and take a long gulp from my own bottle.

"Since when do you drink, anyway?" he asks.

"Since you died," I tell him, as though he should have known this. "Since Adelay died. Since my mom gave herself to Crowley."

"Right," he mutters into his beer. "Your dad ever show up and apologize for that?"

"No," I shake my head. "I haven't seen him since."

Lie.

I can't believe I'm lying to him like this. But my dad is right. We can't trust him. Dean or not, he's a demon.

"Listen," he says, placing his bottle on the small coffee table before us. "There's something I need to tell you."

He pauses, trying to collect his thoughts long enough to formulate the precise words he wants to use, or if he wants to use them at all.

"When I first came back," he slowly continues. "You asked me why I was here, and I told you I wanted to see you. Well, I wasn't being fully honest with you."

I find surprise is lost upon me at hearing this.

"I came originally to track down Cas," he goes on and his eyes barely look at me, as if what he tells me fills him with a subtle sense of shame. "I didn't really care about the pain I know my showing up caused all of you to feel. I didn't really care about anything but tracking down your dad."

While I still lack surprise in his confession, it's a little hard actually hearing him say this.

"And then you told me what you told me," his words keep flowing. "And I stopped pretending. Like, somehow, you forced me to give a damn. Like you reminded me of the person I used to be."

I try not to get too excited by this. There's a good chance he's still lying. For some reason, I can't help but believe him, despite my father's warnings against it.

"I didn't take off because Sam used the demon knife to free me," he rattles on. "I left because I didn't want you to suffer anymore."

"Why did you come back?" I have to ask, to which he lets out a long sigh before taking a long swill from his beer.

"Crowley told me to stay put," he admits quite honestly. "He's convinced your dad is bound to show up sooner than later. I've been circling the town for two weeks trying prolong you having to see me this way again."

"Why are you telling me this?" I can't help but wonder.

"I'm just being honest," he replies. "I know you're not supposed to trust a demon any farther than you can throw them, but I'd like to at least try to prove that I'm an exception."

"Dean," I sigh. "I love you, I do. But how can you honestly expect me to fully be able to trust you?"

"I don't," he admits quietly as he begins to inch himself closer to me. "But I'd at least like you to know that you make me feel human again and I swear to you that is not a lie."

I stare into his eyes and I cannot see deceit. I can't really see sincerity either, mostly because I can't read demons, but I toss this aside completely. Grandfather help me, I trust him.

It's not long before his lips touch mine and, for a wonderful moment in time, we stay like this.

And then reality comes crashing down.

"Dean, I can't..." I pull away, knowing fully well I cannot. For some stupid reason I trust him, but that doesn't mean we should do this. Not now.

He gives me a disappointed but understanding look as he allows me my space.

"Listen, I should be getting to bed soon," I tell him quietly. "Where, um, where are you staying?"

"The car mostly," he replies. "Not like I'm sleeping much these days."

"You can stay here if you'd like," I offer, and invitation he accepts without hesitance.

What I had meant was the couch, but he follows me to my bedroom and, for some reason, I don't turn him away.

"You should know I resealed the trap," I warn him and he doesn't falter.

"That's okay," he assures me as he kicks off his boots and climbs into bed with me. "I'm not planing on going anywhere for a while."

He pulls me into him and simply holds me for a while. I can't help the words that come out next.

"What if there was a way to bring you back?" I ask him quite suddenly.

"It'd be nice," he admits light heartidly, not taking me seriously. "Isn't that kind of like turning a diamond back into coal though?"

"What if I told you I know of a way?" I continue.

"You're joking, right?" he has to ask and I shake my head no.

"Don't tell Sam or Bobby I told you," I say. "We were trying to keep it under wraps until we figured everything out."

"Hell yeah," Dean seems excited by the idea of being a live, human being again. "What are you waiting for?"

"I'm having a hard time with the last ingredient," I half lie, half confess.

"What is it?" he's eager to know.

"I couldn't say," I pretend like I don't know it's me. "I just wanted to know where you stood on the whole idea before I gave the last piece any more thought."

"If you can seriously bring me back," he tells me. "I would love you more than I already do."

I don't mention the part where this will require him to kill me. Instead I wrap an arm around his chest and drift into what I know will be my last peaceful sleep for a long time.


	13. 13 - Sam

**Sam**

We arrive home somewhere around sun up, returning from what turned out to be a zombie hunt. I notice the unfamiliar red Toyota truck parked in the driveway but my tired mind dismisses this entirely. An exhausted Juliana clutches a jar full of zombie blood in one hand as she slowly makes her way to the front door. I follow with a similar lag to my step, carrying a duffle bag of clothes and another filled with guns that need cleaning. We're both more than ready to to obtain a few hours of shut eye.

We're so fatigued we almost miss the second person occupying Cassie's bed.

Dean.

"What the hell!?" I can't help but yell as soon as my mind has processed what my eyes are seeing.

Cassie's eyes snap open as she jerks awake from a deep slumber. Dean gradually sits up as he rolls his eyes and, swinging his feet over the bed, proceeds to put his boots on. I can hear Juliana come up from behind to get a good look at what I've found.

"What in the frig..." she mutters and we both shoot Cassie a disappointed look.

The good news is, they're both wearing clothes. The bad news is they've gotten close again.

"Don't go guano," Dean groans as he slowly rises from the bed. "Nothing happened, alright? If you let me out, I'll leave."

I don't hesitate. I pull forward the demon blade I've been carrying and scratch away a piece of the invisible trap on Cassie's ceiling. This time, instead of getting hostile about my choice in knives, Dean barely glances at it. His attention is almost completely on Cassie who remains seated quite uncomfortably on her bed.

"Let me know if you find anything," he tells her before he brushes past me.

No one says a word, not until we hear the front door close and the truck take off down the dirt driveway. Even then, none of us actually break the silence.

"What was the one thing I asked you not to do?"

Castiel stands besides Cassie's bed and I watch as her cheeks flush in a rosy pink hue.

"I'm sorry," she tells him, tells us. "If you had heard him last night..."

"What did he say?" her angry father wants to know.

"Nothing we didn't already know," is what she responds with. "But they came from him. He was being honest with me."

"Look, Cassie," I cut in, fighting the sleep that desperately calls to me. "This is just as hard on me as it is on you, believe me. But your dad's right. We can't trust him."

"You're just jaded because of Ruby," she accuses me which does carry somewhat of an honest ring to it. If anything, Ruby taught me a valuable lesson and that's trust no demon, regardless of who they are and what they say. This includes family.

"And you," Cassie's blue eyes snap to her father. "You're going to pretend you wouldn't have done the same with mom?"

"My actions may have been similar," Castiel admits. "But I would not have shared certain secrets."

"Wait, what?" I furrow my brow as my arms fold sternly across my chest. "What did you tell him?"

Cassie sighs.

"I told him we found a way to turn him back into a human," she confesses.

"Why in God's name would you do that?" Juliana wants to know.

"Don't worry," Cassie defends herself. "I didn't give him all the details. I just told him I may have found a way to bring him back. I figured if I'm the final ingredient and he has to do me in, he'll have to find out sooner than later."

Castiel's expression softens at this as mine hardens, despite the fact I've known all along she'd do it. I love my brother and I'd do anything to bring him back. Anything but take another life, and especially not Cassie's. I know she doesn't worry about the slim chance she won't actually survive, but I do. If there's one thing that could kill her and keep her dead, it would be death at Dean's hands. I realize that now.

"You'll do it?" Castiel looks at her with an eager spark in his eye.

"Of course," Cassie replies. "I'd feel selfish if I didn't."

I don't know what to say. On one hand, I'll be getting my brother back. On the other, there's a good chance I'll loose an incredibly close friend. Then again, it's not my decision.

"At least this visit had a silver lining," Castiel says to no one in particular. "I'll start collecting the needed ingredients. It shouldn't take me more than a month."

"We got the zombie juice," Juliana presents the jar she insisted upon collecting. She knew what Cassie's answer would be, too.

"Good," Castiel nods in approval before glancing down at his daughter once again. "Thank you, Cassandra."

And he's gone, vanished into thin air. Per usual.

I think that's the first time I've ever heard him say "thank you".

"We're going to try to get in a few hours of sleep," I tell Cassie. "When I wake up, I want to talk to you."

Cassie nods, wordlessly promising me she won't flee before Juliana follows me to our bedroom. She quietly closes the door behind her and doesn't bother to change into more comfortable napping attire before climbing under the white comforter that spreads across our queen sized bed. I follow suit, crawling into bed next to her, jeans and all. My muscular arms find their way around Juliana's small frame as my head hits the pillow. I'm down for the count when she interrupts this.

"Hey, Sam," she speaks barely above a whisper. "Listen. If you can't find a vampire for your little concoction, you can use me."

There goes any chance I had at sleep today.

"No," I tell her. I'm already preparing to loose one person. No way am I going to loose another. Not so Castiel can feel like he's making things better.

"Just hear me out," she insists. "I've been around a long time. I've loved and lost for seven hundred years. I've survived that long. The way I see it, at this point, I'd rather go out for a good cause than get killed by one of those 'no shades of gray' hunters."

"No," I repeat. "You do realize a good percentage of the creatures in Purgatory got there because of you, right?"

"Of course," she nods. "It's kind of inevitable, though. At some point I'll have to go. And to be quite honest, I'm not sure I can stand loosing another person I love."

She means me.

"I don't want to loose you either," I tell her.

She turns to face me, her teal eyes piercing my own.

"Oh, Sam," she whispers. "Someday you will. If you don't use me to save your brother and Cassie's mom, there will come a day when we will have to part ways. I know you don't want to be a vampire, Sam. I don't want to be, either. But I am and it's something that will eventually ruin this wonderful thing we have."

I let loose a long and loud sigh. She might be right, but the timing is just awful. If my weary mind is processing this correctly, one of three things will transpire in the near future; I kill her, she breaks up with me, or I suddenly decide to join the Twilight club.

My head feels like it's going to explode from the pressure I'm under and the pure exhaustion that begs me to fall asleep.

"Let's talk about this later," I half state, half beg as I close my eyes. "Let's just enjoy the calm before the storm."


	14. 14 - Cassandra

**Cassandra**

I'm sitting on the back deck sipping an Irish style coffee when Sam sleepily strolls out dressed in the same grimy clothes he had been wearing when he stumbled home. He is haggard, exhausted physically and mentally. This is been hard on him, too, and it's starting to show.

"Get any sleep?" I casually ask as he rests his weary body on the hard, weathered deck beside me with his own cup of coffee.

"Not really," he admits.

I shake the half empty bottle of whiskey in his direction, wordlessly offering him a late morning pick me up.

"No, thanks," he shakes his head. "I could have used that earlier though."

"Right," I sigh as I put the bottle down. I can't really apologize because I feel no shame or sorrow for what I've done. I trust Dean won't report our business to Crowley and I needed last night to happen. For all intents and purposes, it was my last chance to sleep by his side. Realizing that now, I feel all the less guilty.

"Right now I'm just going to pretend like that whole Dean thing didn't happen," Sam begins slowly between sips of coffee. "I just want to make sure you know what you're doing here. I mean, maybe it's not such a hot idea."

"I don't see any other option here," I point out.

"Look, Cassie," Sam goes on with a sigh. "I want Dean back as much as you do. But this very well could cost you your life and I think you know that."

My silence serves as my confirmation. I've drawn the same theory Sam has. If there's one thing that could kill me, actually kill me, it would be a death at Dean's hands.

"You're willing to die for him?" Sam questions as he watches me sip from my own mug.

"Yes," I tell him without hesitance. "Don't forget, I'm not just doing this for Dean."

"I know, I know," Sam rolls his eyes. "Your mom. No offense, Cassie, but your mom got exactly what she wanted. She gave herself to Crowley who made her his queen. I'm sorry but I can't imagine she's suffering all that much right now."

"Well, Dean didn't get to choose," I argue. "Why are you against this all of a sudden, Sam? Don't you want to save your brother?"

"Of course," Sam tells me. "But not if it's going to cost me two people I care deeply for."

Two?

"What's going on?" I have to ask. A staggered sigh rolls from the weary man's lips.

"Juliana offered herself to our concoction," he tells me with a pained voice. "And if we don't accept her offer, she's pretty much just going to take off."

"I'm so sorry, Sam," I tell him with a sincere breath. "I really am. But I have to do this."

"Do you realize what this will actually do to Dean?" Sam challenges. "You might be able to bring him back to life, but do you think he'll want to live knowing what his life cost? It would rip him apart."

"At least he wouldn't be a demon," I point out. Sam lets loose an aggravated groan.

"I'm sorry, Cassie," he says. "I don't want Dean to be a demon, either. I just don't think Castiel realizes exactly what he's asking from you and I'm kind of having a hard time going along with his redemption plan."

"I'm sorry, Sam," I find myself saying again. "But it's my choice. I have to do this."

Sam wordlessly hangs his head.

"I don't want to die," I tell him when he remains silent. "Trust me, I don't. But if it means two people, two souls don't have to suffer in flames, I'll gladly give up my life for that, especially when I know they'd do the same for me. I might not have been here long, but I've seen a lot of sighs. I've done a lot of things and I've saved a lot of people. I got to love and be loved. I've done more in the last year alone than most people do their entire lives."

Sam listens and, though he's not thrilled with my decision and might not fully agree, he knows he cannot argue.

"Alright," he says quietly after a few minuets of thoughtful silence passes. "As long as you think it's the right thing to do."

"I do," I nod solemnly.

Sam opens his lips to speak but no words come out. His eyes have caught the sudden appearance of Dean as he casually strolls around from the side of the house and towards us.

"Don't we look lively," Dean comments as he nears us.

"What are you doing here, Dean?" Sam asks with a subtle hint of hostility in his voice. He loves his brother, unconditionally. But seeing him as a demon is a difficult thing for the youngest Winchester to digest without causing some sort of pain to spark. Blend this with his extreme mental fatigue and the price he will inevitably pay to see Dean returned to human status and we've got the perfect, bitter storm brewing within him.

"I think I dropped my phone while I was here," Dean states innocently. "Twilight wouldn't let me in."

"Her name is Juliana," Sam speaks with an angry breath. "And you can't blame her. It goes against her every instinct to trust a demon."

"What about your instincts?" Dean snaps back. "You're supposed to kill vampires, Sammy, not date them."

"Don't call me that," Sam spits in distaste for the demon's choice in nicknames. Only Dean gets to call him Sammy and, to Sam, this demon is not Dean.

"What should I call you, then?" Dean shoots. "How about 'necrophiliac'?"

"Whatever, cradle robber," Sam hisses back as he stares at Dean through narrow eyes.

I can see the anger swell within both of them as Dean summons his demon strength and Sam rises, reaching for the one blade that could kill his brother forever.

I can't let any of this happen.

"Enough!" I all but scream as Dean and Sam freeze in their advances. Quite literally. They find they cannot move a muscle, save for their eyes as I stand between them.

"Sam, we're trying to save Dean, not kill him," I tell my best friend before my eyes sweep to my grand amour. "And Dean, you're trying to prove to us you're trustworthy. We're also trying to fix this demon issue and a petty argument is not going to help any of this."

Dean doesn't reply, mostly because I have temporarily removed his ability to speak. Instead he stares at me with wide, curious eyes.

"Clearly my powers have returned," I respond to his wordless wonder. "Which means we're going to play nice or I will send you back to the pit myself."

I know Sam agrees, as hesitant as he may be. While I can't read Dean, I'm more than certain he agrees too. It is, after all, his soul that hangs in the balance.

I release the Winchesters from their motionless state. Sam drops his blade and Dean swallows the excessive force he was prepared to use against his own brother. I may trust him, but I have to remember what he is now. Easy to enrage, quick to react, and potentially ruthless.

"Since you're here," I speak to Dean. "I may as well tell you I know what the final ingredient is."

"Really?" Dean looks hopeful at this news. "What is it?"

"It's me," I speak in a tone barely above a whisper. If his heart were actually working, it would be beating rapidly within his chest.

"You?" he questions and I nod.

"Ten drops of my blood," I tell him. "Gathered after my heart has been silenced."

"You're telling me someone has to kill you to bring me back?" Dean demands clarification.

"Not just anyone," I tell him. "You."

"No," Dean shakes his head. "No way. Forget it. I'd rather be Crowley's bitch for an eternity than kill you."

"I don't die easily," I try to coax him into letting me help him. "There's a one in a trillion chance I won't come back."

It's not really a lie. My chances of not coming back are that slim. I'm just not going to point out the fact that he happens to be the one in a trillion things that could kill me.

Dean takes a moment to ponder my statement. While he remains hesitant over the fact there's any chance at all I wouldn't make it, he can't deny how badly he wants to just be Dean again.

"One in a trillion?" he echoes in the form of a question and I silently nod my response, ignoring the glares Sam sends me. We both know Dean wouldn't let us go through with it if he knew what my true chances of survival were. I think maybe Sam was counting on that.

"When?" Dean wants to know.

"A month maybe," I estimate. "We're going to secure the other ingredients first."

"Good idea," he agrees. "Is there anything I can gather for you?"

"No," I shake my head. "I think we have it under control. But for now, I think it would be best if you kept your distance for a while. It's not easy for us to see you like this, you know."

Dean looks somewhat hurt but, deep down, he knows he would do the same if the situation were somehow reversed.

"Okay," he quietly agrees.

It pains me to send him away like this. More than anything I want to spend the days that follow with him, seeing as how they'll probably be my last. But I can't and it's something that tears away at me.

Part of me just wants this all to be over. Waiting is, as Tom Petty once said, the hardest part.


	15. 15 - Castiel

**Castiel**

For three weeks I play the part my good friend Dean Winchester once owned. I hunt across the globe for the four remaining creatures needed to rescue my beloved Adeline and my best friend from Hell's eternal flames. I can't hunt fast enough. The thought of the dark and twisted version of my love is pungent and nauseating. It sears my very being right down to the core. I have to make this right.

I find a jiang shi in a thick, dark forest near a cemetery somewhere in China and easily send its stiff body to the ground. I slay a ghoul near a little village in Germany and behead a vampire in London. The revenant I have a more difficult time locating, but when I find one in Virginia I remove its head, cut out its heart and take its blood.

With all necessary ingredients collected I find myself at Bobby's to prepare the mixture. My presence, thought purely for a good cause, is not entirely welcomed by the aging hunter who watches me spread the five jars of blood out upon his kitchen table.

"You're really gonna do this here?" he wants to know.

"Where else should I go?" I ask.

"I donno," Bobby shrugs. "Anywhere?"

I pay no attention to his hostile demeanor as I extract two short, empty jars and a dropper from a brown paper bag.

"I need to see the recipe again," I say, barely looking at him as I eye my ingredients. "You're the only one with this book."

"Fine," he sighs and begrudgingly retrieves it from the living room.

_Five drops from five creatures._

I carefully use my little tool and gather ten drops from each jar, blending them together in the clean jars.

_Expose the combined essence to pure light for three days._

I take the concoctions outside where I place them atop one of the several rusting cars Bobby keeps in his lot and take note of the time.

The only thing we need now is Cassandra.

I retrieve my black cell phone from one of my pockets and dial her number.

"It is done," I tell her when she picks up. "The blood is soaking in the sun as we speak."

"I take it you're ready for me then?" she slowly speaks.

"Only if you're ready."

"I'll call Dean," she barely whispers and hangs up. The sorrow her voice seemed to carry should be troublesome to me, but it's not. She's about to die at the hands of the very person she cares for the most in this world. The fact that she'll come back doesn't make it any easier.

I'm about to take my leave when the sudden urge to read the final chapter of this ritual grabs hold of me. Initially I had planed on letting Cassandra fill me in upon her revival, but this sensation is so compelling I find myself in Bobby's kitchen once more. I return to the correct page and keep reading past the final ingredients.

_The blessed essence shall pass through nine circles only once where it must enter the soul of the darkened at the core. The inflicted soul will heal as it passes backwards through each circle if properly guided. Once the earth is no longer above but below, the soul will be clean and pure._

There exists only one place with nine circles and that's Hell. In order for all this to work, I have to travel straight through Hell to the very center and back again.

And I thought all I had to worry about was Crowley showing up.

Well, I did say I'd go through Hell to get Adeline back. I meant it when I said it and I mean it now. I know my word hasn't held much value of late, but I promise I will come for you, Adeline. Even if it kills me.


	16. 16 - Cassandra

**Cassandra**

"It's done. The blood is soaking in the sun as we speak."

A few sleepless weeks have crawled by and amounted to this. My father is ready to save my mom and Dean. He needs but one thing now.

"I take it you're ready for me then?" my exhaustion forces the slow words out of my lips.

"Only if you're ready," my father tells me over the phone.

I'm as ready as I'll ever be.

"I'll call Dean."

I end the quick phone call to contact Dean. My heart races as my fingers fumble over the small buttons. This is really it. The final hours.

I wish I had gotten to spend more time with Dean. While I've seen him a hand full of times since I asked him to keep his distance, our moments together were fleeting and it doesn't seem like nearly enough. Demon or not, I love him and I would give anything to have just one more day with him.

Dean agrees to meet me at Bobby's with an anxious breath. Sam, however, is more reluctant.

"You're sure this is the right thing?" he asks me when I tell him it's time to go.

"Yes," I nod and he sighs.

"I guess we should say our goodbyes then," he tells me with a heavy heart.

"I'm sorry it had to be like this," I say quietly.

"It's okay," he assures me. "It's probably better than getting dragged off by a windego or something."

I give him a small smile at his attempt to lighten the increasingly darkening mood.

"I'm going to miss you," he tells me.

"Oh, Sam," I sigh as I wrap my small arms around his giant frame, pulling him in for a tight hugh. "I'm going to miss you too."

When I pull away from our last embrace, I lock my eyes onto his to assure my next message will get across to him.

"Everything is going to be okay," is what I tell him and, though it's small, a spark of hope goes off in his eyes.

With our final words spoken, Sam and I awake Juliana from her noonday nap. Time speeds up and, before I know it, I'm standing in Bobby's book strewn living room, and everyone is looking at me.

"You sure you're up for this?" Bobby asks me skeptically. Neither Sam nor I ever told Bobby what was really going to happen. We didn't even tell Juliana. But, somehow, they both know this is bigger than what my father sincerely believes it to be.

"Yes," I nod without hesitance.

"And you're really coming back?" Dean wants to make absolutely certain I will return. "Like, one hundred percent positive?"

"I promise," I lie.

Sam gives me a short, painful glance but remains silent.

I return my gaze to Dean who stands at the center of the room, looking at me with a great hesitance. He doesn't want to do this.

"Ready?" I ask, holding strong to the tears that want to spill.

"Not really," he admits. "Where... um... how do you want me to...?"

"Surprise me," I tell him.

He says nothing, his eyes fixed hard upon me as he slowly withdraws a long, silver dagger from his jacket pocket. With an uneasy step he gradually moves himself closer to me, stopping only inches from my face. His free hand he places gently on the back of my head and pulls me into him for a long and passionate kiss. Holding his blade carefully so as not to cut me he runs his hands lovingly through my hair before his fingers gently caress the smooth skin on my face.

"I love you," I whisper, my eyes locked on his, his hands affectionately cupping the sides of my head.

"I love you, too," he tells me as a single tear escapes, sliding slowly down my left cheek.

I feel his hands give a mighty jerk and I can hear something begin to snap.

I watch from Dean's side as he mournfully holds my limp body in his arms, never allowing me to fall to the ground. Even as a demon he won't let me fall.

I examine the body Dean holds in his arms and I see no blood. That snap I heard must have been my neck. I did tell him to surprise me, after all.

I watch Dean gingerly lay my body on the old couch and he doesn't leave my side. Sam slowly approaches with a sharpened knife and an empty jar. With a heavy heart he slices my left wrist open, gathering the blood that spills into the jar. When he's sure he's collected enough, he wraps a bandage around the wound, mostly for show but partially because he hopes I will make it back.

For a split second I think I might make it. In fact, I bet I could jump right back into my body. I've missed three weeks of sleep dwelling upon this?

"Hello, Cassandra."

That voice. It's incredibly familiar and when I turn I realize why. It belongs to the well dressed, bone thin Death.

I knew it.

"Come," he motions me to follow him. "Walk with me."

I give Dean one long, final look, watching as he holds my cold hand in his while he anxiously awaits the revival that will never come.

"Goodbye, Dean," I whisper.

When I finally tear my eyes away from him, I walk slowly to the kind, often misunderstood entity. We stride together in silence towards the hot white light that illuminates the messy living room. My stomach, though less than solid, churns while my heart, though not physically within me, flutters as I follow Death into this light and leave the world behind.


	17. 17 - Sam

**Sam**

Dean expects Cassie to wake up at any second. He waits for that moment when her lungs heavily gasp for air and her body sits bolt upright. Bobby and Juliana remain somewhat skeptical but hopeful none the less. Me, I know better than to wait or hope, even if a part of me wants to.

Blood has never made me squeamish but, for some reason, collecting Cassie's life force makes me want to throw up. What's even worse than trying to keep down the bile is pretending like you're not going to vomit. Acting like nothing's wrong when it couldn't be more so.

When I'm positive I have all that I need, I tightly wrap her wound with a white bandage to prevent any more blood from spilling, just in case. I bring what I have gathered to Bobby's desk where I mix this with equal parts of holy water in two separate jars which I place in the kitchen window. While I'm doing all this, Dean remains at Cassie's side with his hands clasped tightly around one of hers, his eyes barely blinking as he stares at her motionless corpse.

A thick silence falls upon the aging house as everyone, save for myself, waits for Cassie to wake up. Juliana finds an interesting book in Bobby's collection to keep herself preoccupied while Bobby decides to clean a few rifles. I find myself utilizing my lap top in Bobby's kitchen, searching the internet for news articles of suspicious deaths or other strange occurrences, anything that could serve as a temporary distraction to this fresh pain. Dean, he just sits there beside poor, dead Cassie.

"Hey, Sam," Bobby quietly speaks to me after a few soundless hours pass. "That part came in for the car. It's out in the garage, why don't you follow me?"

I know there's no part, mostly because I never ordered anything. He wants to talk to me away from Dean's quick temper and Juliana's sharp ears. Pulling my lap top to a close I don't argue but rather follow him outside.

"She's not coming back, is she?" he doesn't beat around the bush as we slowly stroll through his auto strewn property.

"I don't think so," I shake my head and let out a small sigh. "No."

"You knew she wouldn't come back, didn't you?" Bobby half asks, half accuses me.

"Yes," I confirm his suspicions. "She knew, too."

"Why didn't you tell Dean?" he wants to know as a subtle sorrow creeps across his hardened face.

"She didn't want him to know," I explain. "He wouldn't have gone through with it if he knew she wouldn't come back." I pause as I stare down at my feet, unwilling to show Bobby how hurt I am by this. "It's kind of funny, you know? Dean turned out the be one of the only things that could kill her, and he was the only person that had to kill her."

"Talk about a major conundrum," Bobby mutters. "Well, it's done now. Ain't no turnin' back. Did Cassie leave instructions on what comes next?"

"No," I shake my head. "I'm sure Castiel will show up at some point to fill us in."

"I sure hope so," Bobby says. "I'd hate for her to have died for nothing. She was a good hunter and a good person. I'm sure gonna miss her."

"Yeah," I say, choking back the tears that want to spill. "Me too."

The days slowly begin to pass and Cassie's body only grows colder. Bobby returns to business as usual; working the phones, helping other hunters with random leg work and enjoying his evening beers with his "just friend" Jody. I float between Bobby's and home with Juliana at my side the entire time, her constant presence serving as a wordless comfort in this difficult time.

Dean? Dean doesn't budge from his spot beside Cassie. The only time he ever moves is when he decides she needs a more comfortable place to wake up, so he carries her to the spare bed upstairs where he resumes silently sitting at her side. It's incredibly heart wrenching to see him like this. It's also so humanistic I almost completely forget he's a demon.

Almost.

Castiel's abrupt appearance by the end of the third day reminds me why all this is even happening. He looms in Bobby's living room shortly after sun down with a heavy despondency laced across his weary face. The way he looks at me tells me he knows about Cassie.

"You shouldn't be here," I bark in a hushed whisper at him, my eyes glancing nervously at the stair case. I'm not going to risk killing this whole operation because Castiel feels like taking a gamble. Not now.

"I'm well aware of Dean's whereabouts," he tells me calmly. "I've come to collect the final concoctions. I know of a man of God who can bless this."

"Then what?" I ask, watching as he helps himself to the jars that sit on Bobby's desk. "You'll come back and fix Dean?"

For some reason I assume it's as simple as getting Dean to drink the vile mixture. I'm not sure why I'd think turning a demon back into a human would be that easy. Maybe I just want this all to be over and hoped for hasty results.

"I'm sorry, Sam," he tells me. "I'm afraid it's not that simple." He pauses. "I will not be returning."

"What?" It takes everything I've got not to yell this as my brows furrow into a confused and angered frown. "What do you mean you're not coming back? You do realize Cassie is dead because of this, right?"

"Yes," he tells me with a mournful breath. "And I do not intend to fail the cause she gave her life to. I cannot tell you everything, Sam, but I need you to trust me."

"You've got to be freaking joking me," I give a frustrated groan.

"I will save your brother, Sam," Castiel tells me with a firm, sincere voice. "But it cannot be here."

"Where then?" I need to know.

"When Dean asks," Cas looks at me, somewhat ignoring my question. "I need you to tell him I'm going to Hell. I'll be using the gate in Wisconsin. Do not, under any circumstance, exorcise him. I need him to follow me, not cut me off, or saving your brother will be much more difficult. Can you do that for me?"

"Um, yeah," I give him a small nod.

"Good," he speaks. "I'm going to go say goodbye to my daughter."

"Cas, wait!" I call but he's gone, vanished only to reappear upstairs.

I bolt up the creaky stair case with Juliana hot on my heels and Bobby not too far behind. When we reach the guest room we find Dean on his feet for the first time in days, quickly drawing an angel sword from his jacket. His eyes blaze black in distaste at the fallen angel who stands on the opposite side of Cassie's still, dead body.

"You," Dean growls through narrowed eyes. "Bring her back or I'll kill you."

"Oh, Dean," Cas states. "You'd kill me anyway. Besides, do you think she would still be here if I could mend her?"

Dean glances in our direction and studies our expressions. When he finds no surprise, he connects the dots as a new rage boils under his skin. His inner demon is about to be unleashed and Cassie's not here to calm him down.

God damn it, Castiel.

"You've been working with him?" he shouts at us, but none of us even attempt to respond. "I've been nothing but honest and respectful, which is pretty damn hard for a demon, and you've been lying to me this whole time?"

Again, no one makes a sound.

"What else have you kept to yourselves?" he wonders out loud. "Did you know Cassie wasn't coming back?"

I sigh as I hang my head.

"I can't believe you let me kill her," Dean shakes with anger. "I can't believe you've been lying to me like this."

"Dean, I'm sorry," I attempt. "When Cas said he was looking for a way to..."

"This was your idea?" Dean interrupts, his eyes snapping to the fallen angel. "Of course it was. You're willing to sacrifice anyone to get what you want, aren't you?"

"I did not know she wouldn't survive," Castiel says, his eyes sweeping the peacefully still body that used to house his daughter's soul. "And I'm truly, deeply sorry for what I did to you."

"Wait, what?" I can't help but ask, confused by Castiel's last statement.

"Your secret friend here sold me," Dean doesn't hesitate to clarify this for me. "He sold my soul to Crowley."

"Could he even do that?" I wonder, looking between my brother and his once best friend, now arch enemy.

"Clearly he friggin' could," Dean fumes. "And I'm just dying to settle that score, especially now."

"Dean, wait..." I try to stop him but I find there's nothing to stop him from. Castiel has vanished, taking along with him the only jars of the precious potion.

"Where did he go?" Dean demands to know.

The fact his eyes have been black this whole time is starting to make me a little uncomfortable. Knowing how Dean ended up in Hell in the first place makes me a lot more uncomfortable. I can't believe Cas sold my brother's soul.

If he can't fix this, I'll kill the son of a bitch myself.

"Where did he go?" Dean demands again, this time his voice louder, more forceful.

"He took the blood to Hell," I tell him at last.

"What!?" Dean screams. "I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch. One of you exorcise me."

I know Bobby thinks about it for a hot moment, as do I. Learning what Castiel did to Dean has given us both a hunger to see the fallen angel dead. But we don't. We still want him to make Dean alright before we think about killing him.

"Sam? Bobby? Hell, Juliana? One of you please exorcise me!"

"No," I tell him, my fingers feeling for the sturdy handle of my demon blade, just in case. "I'm not going to exorcise you. But I will tell you which gate he's using."

"Well?" Dean demands a response.

"Wisconsin."

He brushes past us in a blur and he's gone, his demon mind set on tracking down the deceitful angel that sold his eternal soul. For a minuet we keep the silence going, not sure what to say or do.

"You think we should bury her now?" is how Bobby shatters the thoughtful quietude.

"No," I shake my head as I somberly eye her body. "She deserves a hunter's funeral. I'll... I'll go set up some palettes."


	18. 18 - Castiel

**Castiel**

You cannot possibly fathom the absolute misery that consumes me. Had I doubted Cassandra's chance at survival for a second, I would not have asked this of her. Now both of my children are gone, and their blood is on my hands.

At least Cassandra will find a place reserved for her in Heaven. Adelay I completely destroyed, something that will torment me for as long as I live. Secretly, I hope it won't be for much longer. I want more than anything now to succeed, not for myself but for Adeline, for Dean and for Cassandra. But, when it's all said and done, I want it to kill me. I don't think my redemption will mean much if it doesn't take my life in the process.

I find myself wandering lonely dirt roads high up in the mountains of Colorado, trying to fend away the thoughts that torture me. It's difficult to focus when you know you've caused so much pain and suffering to the ones you love the most, but I give it all that I can. I need to beat Dean to the gate or passing through the nine rings unharmed and alive will be all the more difficult.

A set of high beams illuminate the dirt road as an old pick up truck slowly pulls up from behind me. The driver pulls to a stop when he sees me, rolling his window down as he does so. A tall, well built man of fifty six years old sits behind the driver's seat with a kind smile that hides behind a thick silver streaked brown beard. He wears a red PBR trucker cap over his shaggy graying hair and a gray t-shirt that's stained with oil and dirt. His green, almond shaped eyes study me with a slight fascination, my presence on these dark, back roads curious to him.

"Are you lost?" the man asks me.

"No," I tell him. "Just exiled."

"Oh," he's uncertain how to respond to my statement, but he doesn't question it. "Well, do you need a ride someplace?"

"I can manage my own transportation," I inform him mysteriously. "You're Jeremiah Jones."

"Yes," he tells me with a slow nod. "Who might you be?"

"My name is Castiel," I introduce myself to him. "I have a favor to ask of you."

"Well, what can I do ya for, Castiel?" he's curious to know.

"I'm in need of a man of God," I tell him and he chuckles.

"I don't know who sent you my way," he says. "But I left the church over twenty five years ago."

"I know," I nodded. "You were a young priest with a bright future ahead of you in the ministry. Until you met Rebecca. She was a nun, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yes," he confirms this for me with little hesitance, though his expression gives off a subtle look of wonder as to how I have this information.

"Just because you stopped preaching to start a family doesn't mean you ceased to be a true man of God," I tell the kind and accepting stranger. "You have lived a modest and honest life. You raised three children well and, more importantly, you never lost faith."

Jeremiah thinks about this for a minuet as he glances me over with his green eyes.

"You're an angel," he tells me and I nod to confirm this. I can see the wide smile form beneath his heavy beard as his eyes light up. He's waited a long time to see one of my kind.

"Will you help me?" I ask.

"Yes, of course," he agrees. "But I have to ask why you've been exiled."

"It's a very long story," I tell him. "I caused loved ones to suffer and I am trying to redeem myself."

"How can I help?" he's not sure where he fits into this.

I extract the small jars of blood from my jacket pockets and hold them up for him to see.

"I need you to bless these," I tell him. He stares at them, somewhat uneasy about my bizarre request.

"There are people in Hell," I try to coax away any doubt he may hold in assisting me. "People that don't belong there. People I put there. I intend to march through each and every circle to save them but, if this blood is not blessed, it will not work."

Finding my words to be true, Jeremiah climbs out of his truck and motions for me to follow him to the back. He unlatches the truck bed and instructs me to set the jars down. I do so and he takes to blessing the concoctions under the grand, star lit sky.

Once the blood has received his blessing, he turns to me and begins to perform the same ritual upon me.

"Why are you blessing me?" I interrupt, finding myself now the curious one.

"You're about to march into Hell," he told me simply. "If you're a fallen angel, you could use all the help you can get."

I find this touching and allow him to continue.

"Well, friend," he tells me when he is finished. "I wish you luck. When you make it back, you feel free to stop by anytime. I'd love to hear that story of yours some day."

Despite the misery that continues to burden me, I can't help the small smile I offer the true man of God. The stabbing pains and tormenting guilt are still there, but somehow he's managed to mute this. For a fleeting moment, I hope I do make it out alive.


	19. 19 - Cassandra

**Cassandra**

The other side of the light isn't exactly what I expected. Actually, it's nothing like I expected. I guess I wasn't sure what I had waiting for me. Maybe a soft, sandy beach that reflected the image of the shores of Lake Michigan or the steep and vast canyons in Arizona. Mostly, out of all the things the afterlife could resemble, I didn't ever once think it would be a darkened, abandoned barn.

"Where are we?" I ask when I find Death is still at my side.

"Your favorite place on earth," he tells me. "This is where you first met Dean Winchester."

My eyes sweep the mostly empty, weathered old barn. Moonlight floods through a sizable hole in the barn's roof, landing peacefully upon a stack of forgotten hay. I remember this place. It's where I fell.

"Wait," I shake my head. "Am I... am I still on earth?"

"Yes," he tells me. "Why do you ask?"

"I guess I assumed you were here to take me to the afterlife," I admit.

"Careful making assumptions," he tells me. "You know what they say."

"If you're not here to help me move on, why are you here?" I can't figure out.

"Who said I'm not here to deliver you to what awaits you on the other side?" he answers my question with another question.

"But... but I thought you said...?" I'm confused and just a bit embarrassed I'm making an ass of myself in front of Death.

"I said nothing," he tells me. "I am here to take you to the next life, if you so choose to go."

"I have a choice?" I ask with a hint of skepticism, to which Death gives me a small nod.

"It is truly a rare opportunity," he tells me. "Very few get to make this decision, so choose wisely."

"Well, that's easy," I state without thought.

"Is it?"

The way Death asks this gives falter to my hasty response.

"Why would I want to go?" I ask questions I know he cannot answer for me.

"Why would you want to say?" he challenges, another question whose answer should be obvious but isn't. "If your decision to stay revolves around Sam and Dean, you should know it could be several centuries before you come to this road again. The Winchesters will become a distant memory in your long life."

That is something to think about. So far the only thing that's actually killed me was the death at the hands of a beloved. If it's the single thing that can take the breath from my body, Death is right. It would be centuries before I'd even be able to feel that way about another again and several more before one of them kills me.

If I go with Death now, I will be lonely for a few years. At some point Dean will show up, as will Sam and my mother. Maybe even my dad will be allowed to return and we can all spend a peaceful and happy eternity together. And then a terrible thought occurs.

"If I go with you," I ask. "Will my father be successful in getting Dean and my mom out of Hell?"

"I can't tell you that," Death replies. "Partially because even I do not know what the outcome will be, but mostly because I cannot influence your decision."

To me, that says there's a chance he could fail.

I think back on that stupid concoction that got me here in the first place. What comes after the blood being blessed... Nine circles...

Oh shit. My dad's getting ready to walk into Hell with intentions of dragging two souls from the pit. By himself.

I can go a century or ten without seeing Dean. I can't go an eternity.

"Well, then," Death breaks my thoughtful quietude, knowing my answer before I can articulate it. "We'd best get you back to your body then. I believe they're getting ready to give you a hunter's funeral."

My lungs gasp heavily for air as I bolt upright in the dark room I recognize as the guest room at Bobby's. The house is eerily dark and, as my eyes dart about for signs of life, a vivid vision comes to me. Dean with black eyes, yelling at my father, at Sam. Here in this room, maybe an hour ago.

Oh great. He's Hulked out.

My ears pick up on a set of impossibly quick footsteps and, before I know it, Juliana is standing in the door frame with an awestruck look upon her face.

"Holy shit," she mutters before she can rush to my side. "We thought you were gone for sure."

"I was for a minuet," I say with a rough, dry voice. "You were about to give me a hunter's funeral? Kinda early for that, isn't it?"

Juliana furrows her brows.

"You were dead for three days," she informs me and my heart rate spikes.

"Three days?" I echo and she nods.

"Yeah," she confirms. "Your little resurrection blew the power, by the way."

I scramble to my feet and race down the stairs where I all but stun Sam and Bobby who were, until my unexpected appearance, lighting candles in the darkened kitchen.

"Where is my dad?" are the first words out of my mouth as they stare at me wide eyed with dropped jaws.

"C-Cassie?" Sam stutters.

"Yeah," I nod. "It's a long story."

Bobby demands to administer the standard "back from the dead" tests. Shot of holy water, small cut with a silver blade. Just so he can be sure I'm me.

"Where's my dad?" I hastily repeat my question.

"Um, I think he went to Hell," Sam shakes his head in disbelief that I stand before him very much alive and well.

"Crap," I mutter. "Did he tell you what gate he's using?"

"The one in Wisconsin," Bobby tells me.

"Did he just take the jars?" I keep digging for answers.

"Yeah," Sam nods.

"Bobby, do you have any syringes?" I ask.

"Sure," he says. "Why?"

"You think getting a demon to drink that stuff is going to be easy?" I ask. "I don't particularly want to hold down a demon let alone two while I fight off Hell in its entirety."

"Wait, what?" Sam almost yells. "You're going after your dad?"

"Yes," I tell him.

"You just got back from being dead," he tells me. "And you're going to up and march straight into Hell?"

"Yes," I nod with nothing but confidence driving my decision. "Now, if I could get those syringes? I have a father to help and some souls to save."

"No way," Sam protests. "You've died enough times to fix your father's misdeeds."

"What do you mean?" I furrow my brow. "My father's misdeeds?"

Sam and Bobby exchange a short glance. They know something and they're not sure whether or not they're going to tell me.

"Cassie," Sam begins at last. "I think there's something you should know before you follow your dad into the pit."

"What?" I urge him to continue swiftly. I'm running low on time.

"Your dad," he slowly continues, not entirely enthusiastic to share this information with me. "He sold Dean's soul to Crowley. Your dad is the reason Dean went to Hell and the reason he's a demon."

That son of a bitch.

This news is not exactly a motivator in my quest. As awful as it is, I can't let it falter me, not for long. My dad might have been the one who put Dean in Hell, but he's the one whose trying to drag him out. And he could use all the help he can get.

"You don't understand," I say after this startling fact has digested. "He has to travel every single circle of Hell to the very pit itself and drag two demons out."

"He's an angel, Cassie," Bobby takes Sam's side. "I think he can manage."

"A fallen angel," I remind the aging hunter. "Whose about to go up against Hell alone."

"You think a half angel's really gonna increase his chances?" he challenges.

"Yeah, I do," I say. "Now, if you don't mind getting those syringes for me? I need to get going."

"There's no way you'll make it," Sam tells me, hoping I'll stay.

"Well, I at least have to try, don't I?" I ask.

Sam says nothing as Bobby retrieves my requested items.

"I'll return soon," I tell him as I secure the empty syringes within the inner pocket of my black leather jacket. "And I'll have Dean back to normal. I promise."

Sam gives a short, sarcastic laugh at this.

"Just like you promised Dean you were coming back?" he bitterly comments.

"Well, I did, didn't I?" I say.

I turn to make my leave when he stops me.

"Cassie, wait," he says, attempting a calm tone. When I turn, I see the demon blade in his right hand which he carefully extends to me.

"If you're marching into Hell, you might as well take this," he tells me with a small sigh.

The gesture causes a gratified smile to cross my lips as I wordlessly accept the heavy knife. There's no use arguing with him. He wouldn't let me leave without it, despite the chances of its return are about fifty, fifty.

"Thank you," I tell him.

"How are you going to get there?" Bobby wants to know and I throw him a mysterious smile. Honestly, I'm not sure I can do what I'm about to attempt. I've never been able to before but, for some reason, I think I might be able to. Or I at least hope I can.

I close my eyes and concentrate on the gate my father has selected. My lungs fill with a sudden rush of air when I have a solid image in my mind and my body feels as if it's being pulled with a mighty force. When I open my eyes I see nothing but a stunning white light.

Well, that's new.


	20. 20 - Castiel

**Castiel**

The gates to Hell don't look like much if you're not paying attention. Many are sealed by items found in every day nature settings. Rocks, for instance, boulder or mountain sized. Sometimes they sit beneath a flowing river or fresh water lake. This particular gate resembles an ancient looking tree with a thick, twisted trunk whose heavy roots protrude high above the ground.

I take a seat upon one of its grand roots and wait for Dean to catch up. I can't go in too far ahead of him. Once I reach the center, my time there will be very limited.

Suddenly I feel I am not alone. I swirl around to see Cassandra standing just behind me, wearing a look of surprise across her face.

"I did it," she says more to herself than me.

"You're alive?" I ask her as a wonderful relief creeps over me.

"Well, I'm not a ghost," she shrugs. "Death gave me a choice."

"You chose to stay," I state and she nods. "Why?"

"Unfinished business," she tells me. "I'm going with you."

"No," I shake my head, objecting her decision. "You've done all I've asked of you."

"You can't do this by yourself," she pleads with me. "I can help."

"I have to do this alone," I tell her sternly.

"Why?" she wants to know. "Because you put them both in there?"

My stomach sinks. She knows.

"Yes," I tell her and find surprise when I see little anger rise in her expression.

"You don't have to do this alone," she tells me.

"You're not coming with me," I state. "I can't lose you again."

"I'm not going to die down there," she remains persistent. "Dean's the only thing that can kill me."

"And he's one of the demons we're trying to pull out," I remind her.

"I've been getting stronger..."

"Your powers won't mean much down there," I'm quick to inform her. "It's like trying to strike a match in a rain storm. It's possible, but it won't stay lit for long. Even if Dean doesn't kill you, they could trap you. Lock you away."

"We just won't let that happen then, will we?" she looks at me square in the eyes.

Whether I like it or not, she's coming with me.

"Give me the jars," she instructs me. "Bobby gave me some clean syringes. I figured it would be easier to inject them then get them to drink it."

I agree and allow her to make the swap with no struggle.

"You had this blessed, right?" she makes sure I remembered and I nod.

"Yes," I nod.

"Good," she says. "Well? What are we waiting for?"

"For Dean," I tell her. "We don't want him too far behind us."

"Fair enough."

She rests her recently resurrected body on one of the massive roots that protrude from the forest floor and we share a moment of awkward silence.

"Why did you do it?" she wants to know.

"What?" I can't be sure which horror she speaks of.

"Any of it," she shrugs.

"It's a very long story," I say.

"Unless you've got a board game hidden in your trench coat, I think you've got time to talk about it."

"Not that much time," I try to avoid speaking of such things to my daughter who does not accept this response.

"At least tell me why you gave Dean's soul to Crowley," she insists I come clean on something.

"I did it for you," I tell her. "Crowley would have kept sending wave after wave of demons after you."

"You were God," she reminds me. "You could have stopped it at any point."

"I know," I admit. "I lost sight on the things that were truly important. The absolute power I obtained consumed me and I let it distract me to the point where..."

"Where I became a nuisance and you made a lazy barter to keep some demons off my back?" Cassandra finishes bitterly.

I don't respond to this. It sounds so terrible coming from her lips, but she's right. It's all true.

"I am truly sorry for what I have done," I try to apologize.

"Save it," she waves this away. "You can tell us all when we get back." She pauses, a small sigh rolling from her lips. "Although marching into the pit is one hell of an apology."

I allow a short, small smile to cross my lips at her comment. God knows she's furious with me and, if we all make it out alive, I'll be lucky if she ever speaks to me again. But she won't allow the anger to take hold.

I get a good visual of Dean and, estimating him to be maybe ten miles away, motion for Cassandra to rise. She does so, joining me at my side as we stand before the tall, sturdy oak tree. I recite from memory the words necessary to open this gate and, when my speech has died, the gate begins to open with a mighty groan. The trunk of the great tree begins to tear from the bottom upward, ending about half way up the tree. It peels itself back to expose a vast abyss of cold blackness that causes Cassandra to shudder.

"Are you scared?" I ask her.

"We're about to walk into Hell," she tells me. "What do you think?"

"Would you like to hold my hand?" I offer, something I've seen many fathers do since the dawn of man. Granted, they've never taken their daughter's hand to lead her into Hell, but we're not exactly men either.

"Cute," she rolls her eyes. "Let's just get this over with."

Despite her objections, I gently place my right hand around her left. I almost expect her to deny my attempt at affections and find a calming relief when she allows the tiny gesture. A heavy, staggered sigh rolls from her lips before we slowly stroll towards the opened gate. Together we step into the consuming darkness and my heart beats wildly.

I'm coming for you, Adeline. Just like I promised.


	21. 21 - Cassandra

**Cassandra**

The darkness recedes to give way to the thick gray fog that coats the dying forest we walk amongst. From behind I can hear the heavy groan of the gate sealing us within its walls and I cannot help the panic that attempts to rise in my chest.

"It will open again," my father assures me when he notices the fear grab at me.

"This is Hell?" I ask, my tone no higher than a whisper.

"Sort of," he responds, taking the lead through the thick mist. "It is the vestibule, or waiting room. We must cross the river Acheron to reach Hell proper."

I was wondering why this place didn't seem so Hellish.

"Have you ever read Dante's Inferno?" he wants to know.

"Yes," I nod. "I think mom read it when I was with her. Is that what Hell is like?"

"Sort of," he nods. "Dante's portrayal of Hell is the most accurate, though it is outdated."

"What do you mean 'outdated'?" I have to ask.

"Hell goes through many changes," he explains. "There are still nine circles but the punishments change from century to century." Pause. "Dante never was actually spot on. He drew many details in his poem from imagination."

At least I'm somewhat prepared. You know, as much as anyone really can be for a journey through Hell.

My dad takes me through the forest of death where it ends along the sandy shores of the blackened river called Acheron. To the right I can see souls lined up, each and every forlorn eye fixed wearily upon the massive, heavy wooden boat that slowly makes its way to the banks. The ferry comes to collect these now damned souls to usher them to Hell for their final judgment and eternal punishment. It also seems to be the only way across.

"Charon will not be pleased to take us across," my father warns me as we follow the filthy river towards the short dock the boat slowly steers towards. "He detests the living."

"Charon," I repeat the demon's name. "He's the ferryman?"

"Yes," he confirms as we approach the mass of waiting souls. We stand with them and wait with a baited breath as my heart beats furiously within my chest. I have to remind myself things could be worse. I can get out. These poor bastards are stuck down here forever.

When the ferry lands, the doomed souls shuffle aboard. My father and I allow them all to find a place upon Charon's vessel before we attempt to approach. We climb onto the flat wooden surface and, when my eyes finally rest upon the creature who will usher us into Hell itself, I find I am alarmed by his appearance.

"He's a man," I whisper as we stride towards the bone thin elderly man dressed in soiled rags. His hair is long, white and gnarled and he wears a matching beard upon his worn, haggard face. His eyes stare at us, completely white in color from millennia upon millennia of working in the dark abyss.

"Cease," the blind ferryman tells us, his opened lips exposing very few teeth in his gummy mouth as he speaks. "This ferry is for the dead, not you celestial garbage."

"We go where we please," my father speaks boldly. "With the grace of the Lord."

"With the grace of the Lord?" Charon echoes with an amused cackle. "Not you, fallen one."

"You will ferry us across this river into Hell," my father instructs sternly.

"Or what?" Charon challenges. "What is an outcast angel and his filthy half blood daughter going to do?"

For a blind man, his vision is incredible.

It occurs to me; what is the one thing most blind men wish they had?

"Leave my vessel," the ferryman tells us. "You will go no further."

"Take us across," I speak up. "And we can give you your sight back."

"Why would I want that?" he wants to know. "So I can see the horrible things I have to hear for an eternity? I can get by well enough without my eyes."

"What then do you desire?" I ask. "How will you allow us to cross?"

"I will take you to the other side in exchange for that knife you carry with you," he lays his offer on the table and at first I think he means my demon blade. I feel the hilt nestled in my jacket pocket and he shakes his head.

"I mean your daddy's," he says, nodding towards my father who glares at him through slivered eyes. A blade hidden within his coat sleeve drops into his hands and he holds it tightly.

"Once we are safely across," he says. "You will have it."

Without warning, Charon pushes off from the shore with his mighty oar and gently guides the large boat through the tarnished waters. The vessel's passengers moan and wail in shame and regret as we float through an ominous mist. Some howl for help, others pray to God in a desperate attempt to escape what awaits them on the other side.

Their cries will forever haunt me.

When we arrive safely upon the banks opposite of Hell's waiting room, my father waits for the damned to take their leave before he gives Charon one long, hard look. The ferryman holds an anxious hand out, hungry to possess such a fine weapon. Slowly my father extends his blade towards the man and, just when it looks like he's about to part ways with it, he swiftly shoves it into Charon's chest.

"What are you doing?" I yell at him, watching as he pulls it from the now dead man's heart.

"What needed to be done," he tells me, wiping the blood from his blade on his long trench coat as he motions for me to follow him with a sense of urgency. "He won't be dead long. Once he has been revived, he will alert the demons of our presence. We must move swiftly."

"Like I wasn't already planning on that," I call after him, following him into the gray forests that line the murky shore. "Why didn't you just give him the stupid thing?"

"He would have alerted the demons either way," he explains as we attempt to cut rapidly through the twisted trees. "This way we're not down one weapon."

"Isn't that an angel blade?" I ask.

"It kills demons, too," he says.

"Why didn't it kill Charon?" I wonder.

"He's a human," my father explains it. "An incredibly old human bound to life with demon magic, but a human none the less."

Funny how a weapon powerful enough it can destroy a celestial creature or demonic entity only wounds a human.

We tread quickly through the grayness, passing soul after soul who all stare at us with a great curiosity. None of these souls, these people, seem tortured. They don't exactly seem thrilled to be here either, but they don't writher in pain or shriek out in sorrow.

Limbo.

I try to recall what comes next in Dante's version of this vast, consuming Inferno. Greed? No, that's the fourth circle. Lust? Yes, that's it, lust. I feel like something comes between limbo and the lustful.

My heart races when I remember.

"Hey, um, dad," I say, the name bringing a small smile to his lips. "Minos, the serpentine monster that decides which circle each soul belongs in. Was that part of Dante's poem accurate?"

"Yes," is what I am told and every instinct in my body tells me to turn around, row that damn boat across the river and get the frick out of Hell. But I don't. I can't let the fear win. If I let it over take me, our chances of success will be even smaller than they already seem to be getting.

"It was, anyway," he continues and I find myself relaxing just a bit. "Minos was slain by an angel five hundred years ago."

"Oh?" I say, finding myself curious about the story behind that. "Well, who judges the souls now?"

"Hel," he tells me.

Why is that name familiar?

"The Norse goddess of the underworld," he continues.

"That's not confusing," I mutter with sarcasm.

"She's been enslaved in the fires of Hell ever since the Norse faith collapsed," my father tries to fill me in on her story. "Once Minos fell, the demons appointed her the task of assigning each soul to their final unrest."

On the plus side, we don't have a giant freaking snake to worry about sliding past. At the same time, I'm not sure if attempting to pass Hel is any better.

**A/N: For anyone wondering, my version of Hell is based loosely on Dante's "Inferno". Super loosely. Inspired mostly. If you haven't read it, it's a good read. Highly recommended.**


	22. 22 - Castiel

**Castiel**

I can tell Cassandra does not lack trepidation. I knew her bravery would fade once we passed the gates. Though her courage does falter, I know she won't allow the fear to take hold. She had no idea what she was walking into, but she's determined to see it through. I suppose I should thank Sam and Dean for teaching her such things. God knows she didn't get her valor from me.

We reach the edge of Limbo's dreary forests, finding a short stretch of hot, dry sand between us and the thing that sentences the damned to their respective circles. From a distance she doesn't look like much; just some young woman wearing a black, hooded cloak over a dirtied white dress stitched in the traditional Scandinavian style. Upon closer inspection, you can tell this is something no man, living or dead, should attempt to confront for any reason.

The left half of her is actually quite lovely. Stunning blue eye, fair skin, full lips and long, wavy golden blonde locks. The right side is a completely different story. Her skin appears as if it's rotting and her eye socket is hollow. She doesn't even have lips on this half, and any hair that does grow on her head is dry and scraggly.

"What's the plan?" my daughter wants to know. Admittedly, I don't have one. Up until quite recently I assumed I would be making this journey alone and had prepared to take things as they came.

"Don't draw too much attention to ourselves," I say.

"Like you did with Charon back there?" Cassandra rolls her eyes. "What, are we going to just walk right past her or something?"

"Maybe," I return, though that theory sounds doubtful. "She is here against her will."

"We could take her, right?" Cassandra tries to encourage herself. "I mean, she's a goddess. Angel's are higher up on the food chain, right?"

"I'm confident we'll manage something," I attempt assurance as we grow ever near the Norse woman who eyes us with annoyance.

"Halt," she tells us, much like the ferryman had. "You should not be here. This realm is for the damned."

"We go where we please," I tell her boldly. "With the grace of God."

"Doubtful," she scoffs, her sole blue eye sweeping my frame. "I will not let you pass."

"I was not asking," I warn in a low, firm tone. An uproarious laugh escapes her half full, half dead lips, amused by the thought.

"Challenge me if you must," she offers.

The instant the words leave her lips, my sword falls from my coat sleeve and into my hand. Cassandra spies this and quickly steps in.

"How will you allow us to pass?" she asks, uneasy at the thought of leaving a high body count to announce our arrival.

"I won't," Hel rolls her eye to my daughter who stands firm beside me.

"You're here against your will," Cassandra states.

"Aren't all of the damned?" Hel replies.

"What holds you here?" Cassandra wants to know.

"I am bound by chains," Hel tells us, tugging at invisible restraints that disallow her to wander far.

"If I can free you, will you allow us to pass?" my daughter wants to know, causing another loud laugh to escape the creature's lips.

"If you can free me, you can do whatever the hell you want," she spat, insinuating it was impossible.

"Cassandra, don't," I pull at her arm when I notice she's preparing to lift the chains that imprison Hel. "We're barely past Limbo. You need to conserve your energy."

"What else are we supposed to do?" she challenges me.

For a moment I ponder this, staring contemplatively at my compassionate daughter. I quietly weigh our options, determining which would require more energy; freeing Hel or slaying her. My decision becomes hurried when I catch a glimpse of Dean landing upon the shores of Limbo. And he's not alone.

With a wave of my hand, the chains that bind Hel fall to the sand. I may have fallen from the true grace of my father, but I am still stronger than most demon magic. I did expect it to take more energy than I find it has, something I feel the need to attribute to Jeremiah, the true man of God and his blessings.

"We must be on our way," I tell Cassandra with a sense of urgency before turning my gaze upon the stunned goddess. "If you should choose to flee through Limbo, know there is a band of demons heading this way now."

"I can handle a few demons," she tells us. "Should you ever return to the surface, know I am indebted to you both. Redeem this as quickly as you can. I do not like being in debt."

She turns on a quick heel to make her escape as I place a tight grip around Cassandra's arm.

"We need to hurry," I say, pulling her into the second circle where the lustful are punished. "I was not lying about the gathering band of demons."

"Thanks for not killing her," she tells me as I guide her along.

"You do realize we've just set free a creature Sam and Dean will eventually have to hunt?" I have to wonder and she shrugs.

"Right now she's better to us alive than dead," she points out. "She'll be able to slow the demons down enough. Maybe get a few of them off our trail."

"You do realize one of those demons is Dean?" I ask and, for a moment, it looks like she's going to be ill. "Don't worry. Dean's been up against more with a lot less. I think he'll manage."

It doesn't take me long to realize her expression has fallen not because of my statement but rather the circle we have entered.

They're tied to uncomfortable wooden chairs and long, flat tables. They hang from hooks by their wrists or their ankles. Their mouths are sewn shut and their reproductive organs are torn from their bodies. Some are having their eyes slowly removed or stitched closed. Others are being set on fire.

As sickening as it all is, what I'm currently worried about are the demons that take up the knives, the needles and the torches. They're, more or less, everywhere. Some are too preoccupied in their work to notice our presence. Others we find ourselves ducking and dodging between the mutilated souls to avoid. We slip past them as swiftly as possible, my grip on my daughter's arm never wavering the entire time.

I had forgotten how difficult it is, passing through Hell. It was a struggle at my full capacity when accompanied by my brothers and sisters. This seems nearly impossible and, the deeper we get, the more I regret allowing her to tag along.


	23. 23 - Cassandra

**Cassandra**

Somehow we make it out of the circle of Lust unscathed and unnoticed, emerging into the third circle where the Gluttons receive punishment in an endless and foul rainstorm. The souls that, horrifyingly, resemble their former beings are nailed to chairs and forced to consume. Some are fed until their stomachs burst, others are doomed to live in a perpetual drug overdose.

Their cries are horrible and their screams are even worse. The most wretched part of it all is the pleasure the demons get from torturing these poor bastards. I realize these souls are not of the innocent, but I cannot foresee these people deserving this. Not all of them, anyway.

How can this place exist?

My dad pulls me along, maintaining a pace much quicker than I am able to produce alone. He pushes me into darkened corners or behind a damned soul when he thinks we are about to be spied. He does what he can to get us through Hell quickly and, more importantly, unharmed.

He worries about me. He knows I won't flee for home at the drop of a hat, but that's not what concerns him. What bothers him are the thoughts of me being killed by a pissed off demon Dean or, even worse, captured and caged in the very pit itself. It would be a lie if I said I wasn't a little worried about it myself, but I won't let that drag me down. I've still got hope. As much as anyone can smuggle into Hell, anyway.

Leaving the third circle without a scratch or a demon on our trail should relax me, but it doesn't. Like this is some kind of eerie calm before a terrible storm. At least we've made it this far without much of a fight.

"Dean has passed the first ring," my father updates me. "He and the others met Hel in Limbo. She killed a few and a few others followed her."

"That's good," I comment as we stroll into circle four, the circle of the Greedy who are fed forcibly their own beating heart before their eyes are burned out. Once blind, they're ordered to fight each other until nothing remains.

"His numbers continue to gather," he continues as we continue to swiftly dodge our way through another circle.

I suppose I didn't really expect anything less to happen.

My father and I trudge forth through the bloodied muck where the Greedy are tortured and I can't help but wonder how we have yet to be caught. I'm probably jinxing us just by thinking about it, but you have to admit it's curious. Maybe we have been spotted. Maybe they've all seen us this whole time and they're allowing us to pass because they know what awaits us in the next circle or in the center of it all.

I can't believe I forced this upon myself. I think about Sam and, for a split second, I feel like I'm going to cry. The howls and screams emitted by the damned don't help and I feel a single tear slide down my warm face. If I fail, Sam will be all alone. If I fail, Sam will be all alone. If I fail...

Oh, God, what am I doing?

"Cassandra," my father's firm, rough voice snaps me out of my moment of terror as his sharp blue eyes fix themselves upon mine. "Do not allow it to take you."

The Fear. This place runs on it and it's incredibly contagious, at least for me. I am, after all, half human.

"I will not allow anything to happen to you," he promises me with a sincerity so profound it removes all doubt from my mind. Never mind I have no business trusting him. After all, we're here because of him. But there's this light that sweeps across his eyes as he tells me this, I can't help but trust him.

"Sorry," I mutter.

"Do not apologize," he tells me as we continue our hasty but cautious journey. "I do not mean to sound cold hearted, but we don't have time for fear to take hold. We need to keep moving."

"I thought you said Dean was in the second circle?" I said.

"He's closing in on the third," he informs me as his pace increases and he leads me to the edge of the fourth.

Our path leads us to the murky banks of a wide, swampy river.

"The River Styx," my father informs me as I eye the souls that occupy this blackened body of water. "This is the fifth circle where the Angry are locked in an eternal battle."

"How are we going to get across?" I ask, my eyes scanning for a boat, a raft or bridge.

"That poses an interesting question," he admits, his own eyes searching for a way through the fifth ring.

We spot it at the same time. A single demon sitting upon a beached raft, clearly guarding the only way across. I go for my demon blade as my father unsheathes his sword. I'll barter with humans and gods, but no way in hell am I going to make a deal with a demon.

It didn't even see it coming. We each put our own weapons through it's mutilated form and it goes out in a short lived ball of smoke and flames.

"That was easy," I comment, returning the blade to it's place within my jacket.

We board the small raft and my father pushes off with the mighty oar, navigating the river of fighting souls. They leap and pounce upon each other, punch and scratch. Some bite, some tear at exposed limbs. An entire circle of people torturing each other.

And just when I was beginning to accept our decent through Hell had been a bit too easy, something grabs at my leg and drags me into the rancid waters. Hands claw at me, pulling me under, tearing at my jacket, my hair, my arms. I'm blinded by the black water that envelops me, disorienting me to the point I cannot tell which way is up or how to summon enough strength to fight my way out of this.

This is how it is, then? I made it through four whole circles just to get lost in the River Styx? Peachy. God only knows what the demons will do once I surface. Only He knows how long it will even take me to battle my way through the souls of the enraged.

My eyes find a single light amongst the darkness, something that causes the damned to flinch and flee from. As it grows near I can make out the glowing form of my father's hand, searching franticly for me. Once the hands that hold me down are chased away by this nearly blinding light, I take a fast hold of it. Easily he pulls me up and onto the raft where I cough and sputter before I can vomit the horrid water I accidentally ingested.

"Are you okay?" he asks, kneeling at my side as my lungs desperately gather air.

"Y-yes," I stammer between breaths. "I think so."

"Good," he says. "We've completed half the journey."

"Where does the time go?" I mutter sarcastically, checking my jacket pocket to assure the demon blade was still with me. "How did you do that, anyway?"

"I'm not entirely sure," he tells me honestly, taking the oar in his hands to once more steer through the souls of the Angry. "Perhaps I have more strength left than I originally perceived."

A heavy silence falls upon us as we float atop these restless souls and I can't help but wonder what other battles we will inevitably have to endure.


	24. 24 - Castiel

**Castiel**

By the time we reach the shores that boarder the sixth circle, Cassandra has managed to dry herself completely, utilizing just enough of her abilities without tiring herself.

"What's next?" she wants to know as we step onto land once more and into the circle of the Heretics who roam a vast, hot desert, each one set ablaze and screaming in pain.

"Heresy," I tell her, grabbing a tight grip on her hand. "There are no places to hide here. We'll have to make a run for it. How fast can you go?"

"I guess we're about to find out," she responds and I take off at a rate even I find improbable, given the circumstances.

The demons spy us early on and come at us from all directions. I count thirty, maybe forty of the twisted creatures that flock towards us. My sword I unsheathe as they close in, surrounding us in every possible direction. They advance, clawing at us as I swing my cosmic blade. I loose my grip on Cassandra who swings with her own weapon, slicing one demon before stabbing another.

I manage to dust off a few old tricks and exterminate the wicked beings like I used to. One demon I place a hand upon as I gut, cut and sever another. And so on. Not to make this battle look simple. It's not easy preventing ten other demons from striking as you kill two of their kind.

A demon lashes out and tears a long, deep gash into my chest. Another swings a foot under my legs, sending me to the hard, desert like ground with a thud. When I glance over to Cassandra, I see she has been all but consumed by the vile creatures.

I can't fail. Not now. I can't let them take her.

Just as I'm about to take another swing at the onslaught of demons that continue to rush me, something peculiar happens. A spectacular, blue white light shines from the depths of the demons piling my daughter. As the light devours them, they scream and writher before they vanish. Every single one of them, leaving the circle completely unattended.

Cassandra, who lays upon the hard ground, coughs and heaves. I stagger to her side and assist her into an upright position. Whatever she just did, it took a lot of strength. She looks to me through tired eyes, taking note of my own wounds.

"You're hurt," she says.

"I'm fine," I tell her, stifling a groan. "They will heal. Can you walk?"

"I... I think so," she says and I pull her to her feet. "I don't think I killed them."

"I was afraid of that," I say, helping her along as swiftly as her drained body will allow. "No matter. We've lost them for now. But we must hurry. It won't be long before others come looking for us."

"Where's Dean?" she wants to know.

"Don't worry about that," I instruct her.

She doesn't need to know he's closing in much quicker than I had anticipated. Either I miscalculated his speed or the delays we were certain to encounter. No matter the reason, we have no time left to pause for injury.

Once my battle wounds have healed enough, I scoop my daughter into my arms and carry her through the remainder of the sixth circle. She needs as much rest as she can get. That was just a taste of what's to come.

At the edge of the seventh circle, Cassandra insists she is able to walk. I put her down, wincing at the sharp pain I still carry. My wounds may be healing, but not as quickly as they should be. So long as we can avoid another run in for a circle, I think I'll manage.

Our chances of stealthily slipping through this circle look grim when we reach the banks Phlegethon, the river of boiling blood and fire.

"Violence, right?" Cassandra asks me as we duck behind tall boulders, searching frantically for a way across.

"Yes," I nod. "There are three rings in this circle. This is where those who were violent against people or property suffer."

I spot a bridge over this terrible river and urge Cassandra to follow me quietly and swiftly. She remains alert, though distracted by the sight of this fresh form of torture. The souls here are force fed the searing blood from this boiling river. Some have their heads held in the river until their faces have melted off. Others are forcefully being completely submerged.

By some miracle we make it across the bridge undetected and bound forward through the second ring. We stare out across the gray, vast and barren wasteland of this ring and spy no demons. The only thing in this ring are the people that lay upon the ground, some flat upon their backs, some balled into the fetal position. They don't just lay upon the ground, but they are apart of it, as if they grow from it like a tumor or a notch on a tree.

"What ring is this?" Cassandra has to ask as we make our way past the souls who wail and weep.

"Suicide," I tell her quietly. "Trapped in the sorrows of their own minds."

Cassandra falls silent as we rush through this ring, minding the souls that lay scattered about, none of whom take notice of us. She knows this is the ring I tried to save her mother from. Before I sent her to a place much worse.

It gives me even less pleasure showing her to the final ring. It is here people are strung up on hooks and chains. They howl and scream as demons whip, cut, saw, hack and dig at their flesh, removing every little bit of them piece by piece.

"What... what is this?" she whispers as I shove her behind a tortured soul and out of sight from a particularly old looking demon.

"Blasphemy," I whisper back as we switch between ducking and running. "This is where those who sell their soul are punished."

This gives her a better grasp of what Dean went through the first time he passed through here. What her mother went through before Crowley deemed her his queen. For a minuet, she looks as if she's going to throw up.

We make it a good half way through this ring when we're spotted. The demons chase us from behind, both of us fleeing as fast as our celestial beings will allow us in the dark underworld. Together we manage to keep a good distance between ourselves and the creatures and, just when we think we're going to make it to the eighth circle, we're forced to stop short. Cassandra nearly topples from the edge of an incredibly tall cliff and I have to catch her before she does.

Our eyes scan the vast horizons and the cliffs for a way out of this predicament. From up here we can see the city in the center itself, along with a bird's eye view of the remaining two circles. While the view suggests our adventure is nearly half way over, the rapidly approaching band of demons suggests it's just beginning.

"What now?" Cassandra asks, attempting to swallow the panic that tries to seize her.

With enough time, I'm sure I could produce a decent, low risk plan. Unfortunately, time is the one thing we're fresh out of and I do the first thing that comes to mind. I wrap my arms tightly around Cassandra's small frame, taking her with me as I leap from the very edge itself.

"This is the worst idea you've had yet," she tells me as we fall straight down.

"Did you have a better idea?" I question and she says nothing. Instead she squeezes her eyes shut, preparing for a rough impact. I manage to slow our decent enough so our landing is no harder than a leap from a kitchen chair.

"Alright," Cassandra admits my hasty decision making wasn't so horrible as she cranes her neck to stare straight back up from where we came. "Any ideas how we're supposed to get back up that?"

"I'm sure we'll have thought of something by the time we return," I reply, urging her forward into the eighth circle as I watch Dean cross into the seventh. "We cannot stop. Dean is gaining on us."

"Which means?" Cassandra asks as I take hold of her hand.

"Run."


	25. 25 - Cassandra

**Cassandra**

I can't tell how long we've been down here. It feels like it's taken us days to get to the eighth circle. Maybe even a week. Regardless of how long we've been down here, I thought we were making decent time, what with our few hold ups and lack of rest. Now dad's telling me Dean's just behind us.

"What's the plan?" I want to know as our path takes us ever closer to the very center of Hell.

"We'll have to fight our way though this circle," he tells me as we make our way through the Fraudulent and the ten ditches of this circle.

Our legs cary us as fast as they can across the long, wooden bridge that serves as a shortcut across the rolling ditches and wailing souls. We slice, punch and kick the demons that attempt to stand in our way or knock us off our path, a mighty determination driving us as we cut our way through these obstacles. It's somewhere around here I grasp the reality of this quest. If this is what it's going to be like on our way to the center, what's it going to be like getting back to the gate? Back home?

"What's the plan when we reach the core?" I have to know as we fight and I can't help but feel a little hopeless when he doesn't respond. "Is there even a plan?"

"No," he admits. "I wasn't entirely sure what to expect when I arrived here myself."

Oh, good. We're improvising our way through Hell. I may as well go with it. I've come this far, I can't get caught now.

We escape the circle of Frauds with a few scrapes and scratches and all but fly into the ninth and final circle where the Traitors receive their endless torture. The ring itself is a vast stretch of molten lava where souls wither and scream as they forever burn but never quite die. Some are pulled upon rocks where demons dip long swords into the fiery river before slowly driving it into their backs, through their hearts, into their mouths.

Note to self; never betray anyone for anything. Ever.

And I thought the souls on Charon's vessel would give me nightmares.

We find the wide, stone bridge that extends itself across this river of lava and wildly dart across it. Demons leap from protruding rocks, slowing our desperate attempt to reach the core in a timely fashion. My father and I slash our way through them with little difficulty until somewhere around the half way mark when ten manage to form a tight circle around us.

When they take their advance, we're ready and we manage to do away with every one of the twisted beasts. Which you would think would be a victorious moment. Something that catches my father's eye leads me to believe this was an incredible delay in our mission.

I follow my father's narrow eyed gaze and realize we're cutting this a little too close. At the edge of the bridge standing before an army of a good five hundred demons is Dean, his eyes fixed upon my father with a smug, triumphant smile upon his twisted face.

"Come on," my dad urges me. "Run."

"What do you think I've been doing?" I retort as we flee from the army that chases us across the final ring. Honestly, I'm not terribly worried about the five hundred or so demons that chase after us. Not as much as I worry about attempting to pass through them on our way out.

Demons continue to leap at us as Dean and his army chase us, growing closer and closer as we race towards the city. An incredible groan rings out and I can see a massive stone gate drawing slowly to a close, something that urges my father and I to pick up our pace. We reach it with enough time to slip through with Dean all but on our heels when I stop short.

I'm not going in without Dean.

"What are you doing?" my father asks. I don't respond. Instead I give him a heavy shove through the closing gate before it's too late for both of us.

I turn to watch the oncoming army, standing fast and ready. They don't even slow down as they descend upon me and, somehow, I feel no fear. Dean, who does not fully recognize me, unsheathes his angel blade when his black eyes spot me and pounces. Which was actually exactly what I was hoping he would do.

My arms find their way around his shoulders as his body strikes mine and I wrestle him into the city at the last possible second, the gate snapping shut as soon as we have entered. We come hurtling into the dark city so quickly and with such force we knock down a few dozen demons in the process. I manage a few good blows, attempting to knock some sense into him, but it doesn't take him long to pin me to the ground.

"Dean, please," I beg him. "It's me. It's Cassie."

If he hears me, he ignores me. He's so lost in rage he either doesn't care what he's about to do or doesn't realize it. Neither would surprise me.

Wordlessly, Dean lifts the angel blade, preparing to sink it into my heart.

"I love you, Dean," I whisper as a single tear rolls down my cheek.

I doubt I'll get a choice this time. I hope my dad can finish this alone.

Before the blade can pierce my flesh, my father swoops in and, with a fluid motion, stabs Dean in the back with one of the two syringes he's managed to carry through the pit. Dean gasps as the blood is injected into his demon form, the blade falling from his grip and to the ground as he blinks down at me.

"C-Cassie?" he whispers. "Why are you here?"

"I'm here to save you," I tell him.

"Are you... are you dead?" he can't figure out if I'm one of the damned or possibly even one of the saved with special privileges.

"No," I tell him. "I told you I was coming back."

"Exchange pleasantries later," my father tells us. "We need to find Adeline and get out of here before..."

"Before Crowley shows up?"

He's standing behind my father with the demonized version of my mother on his arm.

"So, this is what you've been up to," the demon king speaks. "Trying to pull your beloved out of the depths of Hell? You didn't really think it would be that easy, did you?"

"No," my father admits.

From the corner of my eye I notice Dean's moment of clarity lapse as he shifts back into demon mode. He won't be back to normal until we reach the surface. This is going to be fun...

"Dean," Crowley says, turning his attention to the demon that stands beside me. "Finish what I sent you upstairs to take care of."

The look that crosses the Winchester's face tells me he's willing to oblige his king's order, picking up once more his angel blade. I attempt to tackle him when Crowley sends me flying, pinning me to a wall without the slightest of difficulty.

"Ah ah ah," he wags his finger at me. "You're in my world now, sweet heart."

It's my father's turn to defend himself, but he's little match for Crowley who effortlessly sends him to a wall opposite from myself.

"Dean, no," I beg the demon. "Don't do this."

"Isn't it interesting," Crowley speaks to me as Dean slowly approaches my father. "The last time we met, you lost a whole lot of people, all because of that sorry excuse for an angel of God. And now you get to watch us take our revenge."

"No..." I whisper, struggling against the invisible force that keeps me pinned against the stone wall. I glance to my mother who watches with an emotionless expression on her demonic face, in no way horrified by what's transpiring. At least she doesn't seem to find pleasure in it either.

"Don't worry," Crowley tells me. "This shouldn't take long. Once daddy is out of the way, you can move in with your mother and me. It's boyfriend adjacent."

That's not a nauseating thought...

"Don't tell me you've never thought about it," Crowley continues. "Taking revenge for the people your father has destroyed. I find vengeance a whole lot more satisfying than trying to put pieces back together."

"Shut up and let me go or I'll kill you myself," I bark a threat and Crowley almost laughs.

"I'd like to see you try," he says.

I close my eyes and relax my muscles. Fighting his demon magic with physical force is a waste of energy. An even bigger waste of energy, I've come to realize, is forcing it out through a moment of panic. My theory is, if I can calmly collect strength, I can use more of it for extended periods of time.

Now's as good a time as any to test this theory and I find I'm right. I break free from Crowley's binds, opening my eyes in time to witness his face fall before I send an unseen wave of energy in his direction, knocking him back a good three feet. His landing couldn't have been more perfect, even if I had planed it myself.

An angel blade protrudes through his throat, it's hilt held firmly in Dean's hands as he stands behind the dying demon king. Stunned barely paints an accurate portrayal of Crowley's reaction, looking between Dean and myself before he writhers into a flaming ball and evaporates in a cloud of red smoke. Truth be told, I'm a little stunned myself. He was devious, cunning and sly. It's hard to believe an improvised rescue mission resulted in his demise but, in the long run, I suppose that's how it would have had to end. One big fat surprise.

My mother lets out a loud scream before my father can inject her with the remaining blood, sticking the needle in her shoulder with a swift movement. She blinks up at him, at me, at Dean before my father takes a firm grasp of her wrist.

"You take Dean," he instructs me. "Do not, under any circumstance, let go of him."

"Got it," I say, tightly grasping Dean's wrist. "What's the plan?"

"Same as before," he tells me.

Run. Right back through Hell. Got it.

At least we have Crowley off our backs.


	26. 26 - Sam

**Sam**

Each minuet crawls by at an excruciating rate. She's only been gone a couple of hours, three at the absolute most. I feel like she's been gone too long. First hand experience knows how time moves in Hell.

I sit in Bobby's vast and cluttered back yard, my weary eyes on the stars that glisten above. I'm not sure what else to do. I can't sleep, I'm not hungry and I don't feel like drinking. I'm not even sure where I'm supposed to be. Should I drive out to Wisconsin and meet them at the gate? Do I go home? Do I stay here?

And what do I do about Juliana? We didn't use her for our concoction. Which means we're down to two options.

I can hear her approach from behind as I attempt to create a clearing in the thoughts that pull at my sleepless mind.

"You wanna come in for a bit?" Juliana softly invites me back into the warm house. "I found a half way decent movie on TV."

"No," I shake my head.

"I know you're worried about them," she says, taking a seat next to me on the hard ground when I decline her offer. "It's only been a couple of hours."

"Time's different down there," I inform her.

"They'll make it," she tries to assure me and, as much as I try to hold on to hope, I have my doubts.

"Listen, Juliana," I speak and I can't tell if my words are produced from a lack of sleep, my diminishing hope or my fear of losing another loved one. "I want you to turn me."

"Oh, Sam," she sighs, her teal eyes sparkling in the moonlight. "You don't want to be a vampire."

"No, I don't," I admit. "But I don't want to loose you. I've lost enough people in my life. I can't loose you too."

"I'm not going to turn you, Sam," she tells me.

"Why not?" I want to know.

"Because," she says with a small sigh. "The minuet Cassie and Dean come back from the pit - and they will - you'll regret it."

"That's not what this is about," I tell her which isn't entirely a lie, as close as it may be to one.

"Then what is it about?" she challenges me.

"I love you, Juliana," I tell her solemnly. "I do. And I'm sick of this whole angel, demon crap. I want Dean to be okay, and then I want to disappear and do whatever I want and I want to do it with you."

"That's sweet," she tells me. "Really, it is. And it's tempting, believe me. But I don't really think you're in any condition to be making rash decisions."

"Please?" I beg. "You just said it yourself. It's tempting. We could be together forever, Juliana. Don't you want that?"

"Of course I do, Sam," she breathes. "More than anything would I love to spend the rest of eternity with you. But we have to be realistic about this. You're a hunter and, let's face it, once Dean pops back up you two will probably hit the road again. That and the fact Dean would flip if his little brother willing turned vampire."

"You're a hunter too," I point out. "And forget what Dean would think. I don't have to hit the road with him. I can still hunt and I can do it with you."

"Stop tempting me," she says, turning away from me. "Before I do something I regret."

"Why won't you turn me?" I grill her.

"I don't turn people," she tells me and I can't help the short, sarcastic laugh that escapes my lips.

"You're going to sit there and tell me you've been a vampire for 700 years and you've never turned anyone?" I argue.

She doesn't respond, not immediately. She sits in the still, cool night and contemplates her answer.

"I have turned three people," she slowly begins. "All of whom I have had the pleasure of loving and the horror of watching perish."

"Oh," I softly say, better understanding her hesitance. "You never told me that."

"The first person I turned was a woman named Ivette," Juliana indulges me in the history she is reluctant to share. "She was 23 when I turned her. She was my daughter."

I find this reveal somewhat shocking. She had told me a story or two that involved this Ivette character, but she never really elaborated on their relationship. I never even new she had a daughter.

"We hunted together for 500 years," she continues. "I watched a demon rip her head off her shoulders."

I guess that explains her extreme distaste for the creatures.

"The second person I turned was a man named Jonah," she goes on, hoping to shed some light on her hesitance to make me her fourth. "He befriended Ivette and myself and convinced me to turn him so he could join us. I had to take his head myself 150 years later when he wiped out a small troop of American soldiers during the Revolutionary War."

The concept of eternity begins to settle as she brings forth memories that span several centuries.

"The last person was a man named Cyrus," she shares. "He owned a general store in western Colorado fifteen years after the end of the Civil War. I had fallen madly in love with him and I couldn't help myself. I was tired of being alone."

"What happened?" I wonder out loud and she gives a long sigh.

"He stuck his head under a train," is what she tells me and I can't help but wince at the image.

"That's why you don't want to turn me?" I ask. "You think I'll end up like them?"

"Whether I turn you or not, you will end up like them," she tells me. "Because there is no eternity. There's no forever. Everything eventually comes to an end, some later than others. I have had to watch every person I've ever loved die while I remain. I wouldn't wish that upon anyone. Especially not you."

"But I already have," I try to convince her to see things my way, as delusional as 'my way' seems to be at the moment. "I've lost everyone. All I have left is you."

She lets out another long sigh.

"You're tired," she quietly tells me. "You're not thinking clearly."

"Yes," I try to convince the both of us. "I am."

"One week," she tells me. "If Dean and Cassie don't return by the end of one week, and you truly want me to turn you, I will."


	27. 27 - Castiel

**Castiel**

"Castiel," she whispers my name as we search for a way to reopen the gates of the city, her eyes flashing between black and blue as the potion takes hold. "How... what did you do to me?"

"I'm saving you," I tell her.

"Oh, good," she rolls a set of demon eyes. "Nothing bad ever happens when you come to save me."

"I'm really saving you this time," I promise. "No more Fate, no more angels or demons."

"Who asked you to save me?" she wants to know, attempting to free herself from the strong grip I hold on her.

Her comment makes me realize something I never once thought of this entire time. I was so focused on making everything right, on fixing my mistakes, I never questioned what Adeline might have wanted. As sickening as the thought is, perhaps she actually likes it here in Hell. Maybe I'm messing things up for her again.

I shake these thoughts aside. She'll thank me topside.

I find a heavy wooden lever that controls the gate and wave a hand over it. The four of us watch as it slowly springs into action, gradually opening the door that separates us from the gathering army that awaits us. I glance to Cassandra who stands calm, collected and ready with Dean at her side.

"You got the angel blade?" she asks him and he nods, holding it up for her to see. "Good. Feel free to take a swing at one or two of them on the way out."

Dean nods, silently preparing himself for battle. I look to Adeline who continues to blink in confusion as her tarnished soul slowly tries to clean itself. I can't help but wonder how Dean snapped from his demon trance so quickly while Adeline struggles. Then I realize it's because he's with Cassandra, the girl he always loved and never once hated. Adeline certainly hates me.

The demons barely wait for the gate to fully open, pouring in through the cracks and racing straight for us. I hold fast to my angel sword with my right hand while maintaining the same grip on Adeline with my left, preparing for the fight of my life in attempt to get past these beasts. A sudden blinding light serves as a temporary distraction and my eyes wander to Cassandra who holds her left hand out, her palm emitting an energy so pure and powerful it forces any demon in it's path to scream, howl and cry before they're sent elsewhere in this realm.

"Cassandra, no!" I yell when I realize what she's doing.

"I can do this," she tells me with an incredible confidence. "Hold down the sides. Let's go!"

It takes me a moment to accept this plan. She does seem more controlled and, in her control, she has found a way to prevent her strength from diminishing at a rapid rate. That and it does make our escape that much easier.

The four of us make a run for it, Cassandra marching forward unwavering and confident. Dean, though still held firmly in my daughter's grasp, manages to fend away the demons that attack from the right while I do the same on the left. We do this as we cross the ninth circle in its entirety, pushing the army behind us.

Cassandra extinguishes the raw energy once we've reached the wooden bridge that spans the ten ditches in the eighth circle as we run from the army that chases after us.

"If you have any ideas on how to get up that big cliff at the end of this circle," Cassandra speaks to me as we sprint through Hell, continuing to fight our way through the demons that advance from either side of us. "Now would be a good time to share with the class."

I forgot about that stupid cliff.

"I could transport everyone," I speak the first thing that comes to mind. "It would have to be one at a time."

"The cliff?" Dean echoes as he lays the angel blade he carries into a demon. "I can get up that."

"You can?" Cassandra questions.

"I'm still a demon, right?" he points out. "We can get up that thing, no problem."

"I'm not letting go of you," she tells him firmly.

"You don't have to," he tells her, slaying a demon as he speaks. "I can pull you up with me."

I look to Adeline. She won't cooperate with this idea. While her eyes suggest she's gradually beginning to return to a more humanistic mind set, she's still not on board with our rescue mission. I'll have to transport her the old fashioned way.

When we reach the end of the eighth circle, Dean fulfills his promise by leaping up the tall, straight stretch of solid rock with Cassandra enveloped in a tight embrace. I wrap my own arms around Adeline and, in less than a second's worth of time, we stand upon the very ledge where we meet Dean and Cassandra.

Adeline's eyes turn that brilliant shade of blue upon our landing. The simple act in our relocation causes an flood of memories to strike her. Memories of us, before I made all those terrible mistakes, when everything was alright.

"Castiel," she whispers my name again, this time her tone soft and somewhat relieved. "You... you came for me?"

"Yes," I nod.

"How did you...?" she begins to ask, looking to me as if it's been a century since she last saw me.

"We'll explain when we reach the surface," Cassandra speaks up. "Right now we need to run like hell."

"Cassandra..." Adeline says, her eyes falling to the daughter she's never known.

"We'll meet later," our daughter says, urging us to follow her and Dean through the seventh circle. "Just run!"

She doesn't have to tell us a third time. We tail after them as Cassandra brings forth an abundant amount of that raw energy, clearing us a path through the demons that attempt to swarm us while Dean and I hold down the sides and Adeline keeps a close watch on those that follow. We do this all through the seventh circle and again in circle six.

It's on the banks of the fifth circle, the river Styx, Cassandra's strength falters.

"I can't anymore," she pants. "Where's the raft?"

"The one on the other side?" Dean points to the flat, beached raft that sits upon the shores opposite of us.

"You think you can jump it?" Cassandra asks hopefully.

"I don't know," Dean admits. "I'm not feeling as demony as I was back there. Can't your dad just transport us all to the other side?"

"No," I shake my head as I eye the vast, foul river and debate our options. "We have to actually pass through each circle."

"Oh. So we're boned then?" Dean tries to start a fight.

"I don't want to alarm anyone," Adeline speaks up. "But we're about to have a lot of company."

For some reason I'm reminded of Moses and the parting of the Red Sea. That was an ability I used to possess. I haven't actually tried it in a millennia or so. I wonder...

I pass my angel blade to Adeline and extend before me my right hand, attempting to gather whatever strength I have within me. For a moment, things look very bleak. And then the waters begin to part. I find I have a difficult time holding the walls together as they unstably quiver, but it will have to do.

We make a mad dash down this temporary path through the fifth circle and, once Adeline's feet have landed upon the shore, I loose my control of the river. It comes crashing down upon the demons who tailed us, devouring their twisted bodies with a loud rush of angry souls and rancid water. That should buy us some time.


	28. 28 - Cassandra

**Cassandra**

We continue our escape from Hell, my grip on Dean never once breaking as we fight and flee our way through the fourth circle and again in the third. When we reach the second circle, we find something incredibly peculiar. The souls of the lustful are still here, tied and bound to their tables and chairs. But there is not a single demon. When mom glances back to resume her watch on our tail, she reports the army has either fallen back quite a distance or has completely stopped following us.

"That doesn't seem ominous," I add a sarcastic comment as we make our way through the empty circle. "Where do you think they're waiting for us?"

"I suspect they gather upon the shores of the river Acheron," my father guesses. "Which side I couldn't say."

I find myself regretting using so much of my energy in the other circles. As helpful as it was, it nearly drained me of my celestial strength. Honestly, I'm not sure I've got what it takes to do it again. Not right now.

We cross into the first circle where souls whisper to each other and point at us as we pass by. They've undoubtedly heard the commotion we've managed to create. They were, after all, the first ones to hear our arrival; killing Charon, freeing Hel.

They saw it.

"What else did they see?" I mutter to myself, gazing at the gray souls that wander the misty forests of Limbo.

I spy a soul who stands alone, unoccupied by whispers and gosip. The brunette woman stands amongst the trees, dressed in a long, dusty blue hoop skirt dress, her green eyes watching me with a great curiosity as I approach her.

"What are you doing?" Dean wants to know but I don't reply, never breaking my gaze upon the stranger.

"Hello," I tell the mid-twenties looking woman. "I'm Cassandra."

"Rebecca," she politely returns the introduction. "You come from Heaven."

"Er, sort of," I nod. "You've heard of me?"

"I watched him kill Charon," she points to my father. "And free Hel. I saw him chasing after you," she points to Dean. "I've heard the demons speak as they pass through."

"What did they say?" I ask her to share with us. "How many? Are they waiting for us at the river?"

"Some turned back when they heard the king had been slain," Rebecca tells me. "To join the challenge for the throne. Others await you at the shores beyond Hell proper."

"How many?" I want to know what to be prepared for.

"I don't know," she admits. "Maybe a thousand."

That's... um... well, shit.

"Good luck," she wishes me.

"Yeah, thanks," I try not to mutter as my father pulls me away from this grim news, compelling me to continue our march back home.

"Well, what's the plan?" Dean asks.

"There isn't one," I tell him as we move on through the first and final circle. We're so close but so far away.

"Can't you just angel hoodoo them away?" he asks and I sigh.

"I think I maxed myself out," I tell him. "I doubt I could even light a candle right now."

"What about you, Cas?" Dean asks, temporarily abandoning his deserved hatred for my father.

"I'll try," he promises. "As far as I know, that's beyond my current capabilities."

"Great," Dean rolls his eyes. "So we're just going to walk right into an army of demons then?"

"Maybe," I shrug. "We've kind of just been winging it this whole time. It's worked out pretty well so far."

"You think maybe now is a good time to start coming up with some plans?" he challenges.

I don't respond. My eyes are fixed upon the thin, bony old ferryman who stands alone in his vessels upon Limbo's sandy shores.

"You," he spits at my father and me. "I will never take you across this river again."

"Fine by me," I spit back, swiftly inserting my demon blade into his heart before I discard his expiring body into the sand.

It's hard not to notice the intrigued look my father sends me.

"What?" I ask, returning my weapon to my jacket pocket. "They already know we're here, don't they?"

"It's just curious is all," he comments and I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, yeah," I say. "Get rowing. I'm ready to go home and take a nap."

My legs all but give out when I reach one of the long wooden benches, my lips letting loose a long, satisfied sigh as I sit for the first time in what feels like weeks.

"You're just going to sit there and pretend like there's not an army of demons waiting for us on the other side?" Dean asks.

"Yes, I am," I nod, pulling him onto the bench beside me. "And so are you."

"Seriously, Cassie..."

"Seriously, Dean," I cut him off. "We'll figure something out. Just relax and enjoy the rest of the demon intermission."

I know. Right now, relaxing is easier said than done. The silence that falls upon us as my parents steer the giant ferry through the murky waters is not peaceful. It's thick with the anticipation of what awaits us. It feels like we are drifting towards certain destruction, which is a feeling all too familiar for my comfort. Last time I really felt like something truly terrible was about to transpire, Dean and Adelay died.

But there is no other way. There's no going back. There's only forward.

"Listen, Cassie," Dean says when the ferry lands upon the shores and delivers us to our doom. "If we don't make it out, thanks for trying." He pauses to lift my hand to his lips. "I love you."

"I love you too, Dean," I tell him back before placing a tender kiss upon his cheek.

This is it. The final hour. The darkness before a dawn we might not get to see.

They wait for us, silent and still, their eyes upon us as we stare back from the ferry. There are easily a thousand demons here, maybe more. And they're not just going to let us walk out of Hell.

Once our feet hit the shores they rush us. I wield my demon blade with my left hand, making sure my grip on Dean remains firm in my right as he brings forth his angel blade. My father passes his own weapon to my mother as he produces an illuminating glow that shoots forth from his extended hand. It blinds the demons who scream and leap out its way, creating a path similar to the one I had managed to create more than a few circles back.

Unfortunately the light, while blinding to the dark creatures that swarm about us, is just that. We're maybe in the very heart of this army when they figure this out and brave the miniscule pain to get to us. I slash while Dean stabs. My father attempts to kill them off one by one with an old angel trick as my mother swings his blade at the twisted creatures.

We put up the fight of our lives but find that the odds are incredibly against us this time. They pounce upon us, dozens at a time. Five demons busy themselves restraining my father while another three take a firm hold of my mother, confiscating the sword from her grip. Dean and I find ourselves in a similar situation, both of us stripped of our weapons as we're forced to our knees.

"What happened?" a demon, the clear leader in this attack, asks me with a taunting tone. "Run out of juice?"

I don't respond. Instead I make a desperate attempt to draw forth any drop of strength I have left inside of me. All I can produce is a subtle spark, something that causes an uproar of laughter from the demons who witness this.

Demons pry, scratch and tear at us, attempting to break my firm grip on Dean but I won't let go.

"This is what's going to happen," the demon general speaks up as he twirls one of the angel swords in his right hand. "You're going to watch us kill your daddy. And then we're going to drag mommy and your boyfriend back into the seventh circle."

I don't want to know what they have planned for me.

Demons pull at us from all sides and my clutch on Dean begins to wane. Escape seems impossible and the situation hopeless. All this for nothing.

No.

That's what they want me to think. They want me to loose hope. Their negative energy mutes my positive driven powers and clouds my concentration.

I attempt to focus my doubt filled mind on something, anything other than this. I think about sitting upon the ledge at the Grand Canyon, watching the sunrise with Dean at my side. Smile. My mind wanders to Lake Michigan where we shared a wonderful evening. Smile. I see, from my mother's memory, the first time she met my father. Smile.

A hot, sharp pain grows within the pit of my stomach. Dear God, I've been stabbed. When I look down and see neither blade nor blood, I realize what this is.

"Dean, get down," I whisper above the snarls and whoops the demons make.

His brows furrow.

"Get down!" I command of him, the pain increasing as it stretches outward, threatening to consume my being.

I glance to my father who, between the demons that pull at him and my mother, manages to take notice of what's about to happen. He pulls her to the ground and, just as Dean drops his own body, it happens. That hot, pure energy I emitted through a single hand. Only it doesn't come from my palm. This time, it comes from everywhere.

It feels like I'm exploding as the energy pushes through my entire being, going off like an atom bomb. I can hear no cries, no howls or hisses. Only the rush of every single drop of strength I have surging throughout the dying forest.

It lasts for a good minuet or two, stopping abruptly when I find I have nothing left within me. My eyes require a moment to readjust to the darkness and, when they do, they find only three survivors; Dean, mom and dad.

My parents rush to my side as Dean rises from his stomach, all eager to assist me in the final stretch of our journey.

"No," I deny their help, determined to finish this the right way. "I can do this. We're almost there."

I rise to a set of unstable feet that I force to carry me through Hell's vestibule, following my father until we find a certain tree. He speaks some Enochian words to it and, as the tree in Wisconsin did, it splits open from the ground up. From this side of the gate, the opposite end is bright and welcoming, not dark and ominous.

It's really over.


	29. 29 - Castiel

**Castiel**

As soon as her feet hit the lush forest floor, Cassandra collapses into an exhausted heap upon the moist earth. Her chest heaves as her eyes stare up at the oncoming of day that chase the stars from the night sky. You can't imagine the pride I feel for my daughter in this moment of true triumph.

Dean and Adeline both fall to their knees, gasping for air as they clutch their stomachs that twist within them. They cough and gag and, after a while, they both vomit a thick cloud of black smoke that dissipates before it can reach the treetops. And they're free. We did it.

As soon as Dean has had a chance to catch his breath and find his pulse, he kneels beside my daughter to check on her current condition. She looks to him with tired eyes, a victorious smile placed upon her defined lips as he gently brushes the blonde hair from her face.

"I don't even know how to begin to thank you," I can hear him tell her.

"You could start with a kiss," she tells him which he does with an eager passion.

My eyes sweep to Adeline and I find surprise when I see the soft smile she gives me.

"Thank you," she tells me with a sincere breath.

"Don't," I tell her, bowing my head in shame. "I do not deserve your gratitude. It was the least I could do after all the things I put you through." I pause, glancing back up to her. "Adeline, I am so sorry."

"I know," she tells me as she slowly inches her way towards me. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have thrown myself into the pit like that. I wasn't thinking straight."

"You don't need to apologize," I'm quick to tell her. "I'm the one who caused this and I truly am very sorry for all that I did."

She doesn't say anything but rather wraps her arms around me, embracing me warmly for the first time in far too long. I return the gesture, holding onto her for as long as I can. No matter how many times I apologize, it will never make up for the awful things I did to her but, for some reason, she forgives me.

She allows me to place an affectionate kiss upon her forehead before she gradually breaks our hold on each other.

"How did you rescue us?" Adeline is curious to know how we achieved a seemingly impossible feat. "You didn't drag Cassandra down there with you, did you?"

"No," I assure her. "I couldn't make her stay."

I share our story with Adeline. The abridged version anyway. There are certain parts she doesn't need to know. Like what the concoction was really made from and the three days Cassandra spent with Death. Details like that, since they don't really matter anymore. What matters is everyone is alive and, though exhausted, alright.

When the tale has come to an end, her blue eyes wander to our daughter who still lays upon the forest floor with Dean at her side. Adeline slowly wanders towards them, moderately nervous to meet her own flesh and blood, the half celestial entity built in her likeness. Cassandra watches her approach, her own heart fluttering with a mixture of wild emotions.

"Hello, Cassandra," Adeline speaks, kneeling beside the girl who looks nearly identical to her.

"Hi, mom," Cassandra returns, sitting upright as they gaze upon each other with curiosity and wonder.

"I am so proud of you," the words pour from Adeline's lips and Cassandra beams. "Thank you."

They embrace, both more than relieved to see the other alive. A smile tugs at the corners of my dry lips. While what I've done barely makes up for my horrific misdeeds, seeing my daughter surrounded by the people I once took from her does make me feel a little better about myself.

Not enough to prevent me from handing Dean the angle blade I managed to grab before we escaped the final stretch of Hell. He looks between me and the sword, unsure what to do.

"Please," I hold it out to him, insisting he take it.

Dean slowly rises to his feet and takes the weapon with an air of hesitance.

"I deserve this," I assure him.

"It's true, you do," Dean agrees, carefully eyeing the honed blade. "And I'm not gonna lie, I still kind of want to. But you did save me." He pauses, returning the sword to me. "I don't think you're done fixing that mess you made."

He's referring to the hundreds of people I recklessly destroyed in my "power trip".

"I don't even know where to begin rectifying those mistakes," I tell my friend.

"How about you start saving people," he half suggests, half orders me. "Save one for every one you took. Maybe a few random acts of kindness on the side for bonus points."

I nod, accepting Dean's idea. Who knows, maybe I won't stop once I've helped more than I hurt. God only knows how long I'll be banished to roam the earth. I may as well make good use of that time.

"I don't want to ruin the little reunion we've got going," Cassandra speaks up. "But I'm thinking we should get to Bobby's before Sam tears his hair out."

"Yeah," Dean agrees. "I could use a cold beer right about now."


	30. 30 - Dean

**Dean**

Damn it's good to be back. The air's never smelled fresher, the sky's never looked so blue... and so on. I owe Cassie my life. I have no idea how I can ever repay her for what she did. Honestly, I don't think I can. But I know I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying, not because I feel obligated, but because I want to. Because she deserves it.

If you're curious about Dean Goes To Hell; The Sequel, I'm not ready to talk about it. Let's just say round two made my first stay in Hell look like a day at the spa. Which makes me all the more grateful for Cassie's reckless and amazing trip through the pit to save me from it all.

She leans into me for support as we walk through Bobby's junk yard, my left arm gripped firmly around her waist and her left arm draped around my shoulders as her heavy feet struggle with each step. I'm surprised she's even conscious. I offered to carry her but she declined, insisting she return on her own two feet.

When we reach the door, it doesn't take long for Bobby to swing it open. His eyes sweep over the four of us, his jaw nearly dropping in disbelief. It's clear by his expression he didn't think Cassie and her father would make it.

"Hey, Bobby," I speak through a rough, scratchy voice. "Mind if we come in for a bit?"

"Dean?" Bobby studies me. "Is that really you?"

"It's really him," Cassie assures him with a tired smile.

The old man comes in for a hug, letting loose a long and heavy sigh of relief.

"It's good to see you again," he says. "You know, the real you."

"You too, Bobby," I return his embrace with my free right arm. "You got any beer?"

"Course I do," he motions for us to enter. "I'm guessing you could use one right about now?"

"I think we all could," Cassie speaks as we follow Bobby into the house.

"Where's Sam?" I question as I help Cassie into the living room.

"He's been out back since Cassie left," Bobby calls from the kitchen as he retrieves our victory drinks.

"I'll go get him," I hear Juliana speak as she descends the stair case, her expression a blend of relief to see Cassie alive and uncertainty towards my own return.

"It's okay," I calmly assure my brother's girlfriend who looks surprised by my words and how they're delivered. "I'll go see him. You can stay out of the sun and catch up with Cassie."

Juliana cocks a suspicious brow at me, as do Bobby and Cassie. Not even six hours ago (in earth time that is), I hated her, a feeling that was more than mutual. A lot has happened in that small amount of time. Seeing Cassie with human eyes for the first time in what felt to me like more than a century made me realize what a douche I've been to Sammy about his choice in girlfriends. Love always comes in the most unexpected ways and I know he wouldn't keep her around if he didn't love her. I'm still not crazy about the whole blood lust thing, but if Sammy's happy, I guess I have to suck it up. No pun intended.

"Um, yeah," the vampire slowly nods. "Go for it."

"I'm going with you," Cassie insists and I give her a small kiss on the cheek.

"Why don't you sit down for a while," I suggest. "I'm surprised you're even awake."

"Fine," Cassie doesn't fight me, allowing Cas to take over supporting her weary body. "But tell him I walked home, okay?"

"Sure," I nod in agreement. "Hey, Jules. Walk with me for a minuet, would you?"

Juliana isn't sure how to take my request or the sudden nickname but peacefully follows me with a sense of caution.

"Look," I begin when I'm sure we've gone beyond hearing range from the rest. "First of all, I want to... ahem... apologize for the way I treated you before. The whole, you know, vampire thing kind of threw me for a loop. I haven't had the best luck with... um... 'your kind' before."

"Okay..." Juliana's still suspicious and cautious of me.

"I just want you to know if you make Sammy happy, I'm okay with you hanging around," I finish and for a minuet, the teal eyed vampire just stares at me in disbelief.

"That's... unexpected," she admits.

Tell me about it. I didn't think I'd ever see the day I'd be okay with my little brother dating a monster.

"So, we're cool then?" I ask as she studies my sincerity.

"Yeah," she slowly nods. "We're cool." Pause. "I'd apologize for how I treated you, but I can't honestly say I'm sorry for trying to protect Sam and Cassie."

"Fair enough," I shrug. "So you won't take it personally when I tell you if you do anything to hurt Cassie or Sam - which does include turning him - I will personally remove that pretty little head of yours from your shoulders."

When she gives me a knowing smile, I feel all the better about letting Sammy date her. Not only did she not find offense in my promise, she actually seems delighted to hear it. Like she'll hold me to it if she looses control and goes postal on her friends.

"Go see Sam," she opens the back door for me, the smile still spread across her face. "He needs to see you're alright. I'll keep your lady company."

I'm glad I made peace with her. Fangs aside, she doesn't seem all that bad.

I wander into the auto strewn lot and find Sammy working tediously on the Impala's engine.

"Looks good," I comment, my words causing him to drop a wrench on the motor and spin around, a hopeful but uncertain look crossing his face.

"Dean?" he gasps. "Are you...?"

"Back to normal?" I finish for him. "Yeah. You can give me the holy water test if you want. I could go for a shot of water, actually."

A wide smile spreads across his face before he comes in for a long, tight embrace.

"Thank god," he whispers when he pulls away. "Where's Cassie?"

"Inside," I reply. "She wanted you to know she walked home."

A deep sigh of relief escapes his lips as his eyes flash with an exhausted but extreme happiness.

"I can't believe it worked," he tells me. "I was sure I'd lost you both."

"Come on, Sammy," I say with a small smile. "You should know by now I'm not that easy to get rid of."

A subtle look of embarasment crosses his face and I can't help but raise a brow at this.

"You weren't going to do anything stupid, were you?" I feel the need to ask and he sighs.

"I was thinking about it," he admits with a vague honesty as a smile forms across his lips. "But not anymore. Anyway, what happened down there? You left a little..."

"Pissed off?" I finish. "Yeah, I was. It's a little hazy. I remember chasing them through the pit. I think I had a run in with Hel."

I pause, trying to recall everything up until the time Cassie took my hand and led me through Hell itself. A sudden and intense vision comes to mind of Cassie nailing Crowley with a blast of concentrated angel HooDoo. He fell, and then...

Oh, snap.

"I... I think I killed Crowley," I remember Crowley falling into the angel blade held firmly in my hands.

What dumb, amazing luck.

"Damn," Sammy mutters as his eyes widen with a pleasant look of surprise.

"Yeah," I nod. "You wanna head back in? Bobby's got a beer with my name on it."

"Sure," Sammy temporarily abandons his project, wiping grease from his hands with a red rag. "You guys get Cassie's mom back?"

"Yep," I say as we slowly wander back to Bobby's house. "She's inside with Cas."

Sam wrinkles his nose at the name.

"He's here?" he questions with a hint of anger to his tone.

"You sound surprised," I note and he shrugs.

"I donno," he begins. "I guess I figured you'd have killed him by now. At the least I thought you would have told him where to stick it and where to go."

"Don't get me wrong," I defend my actions towards my friend. "He was a dick for sending me down there and I'm sure as hell not going to forget that for a long time. But he did help break me out."

"Dean, he sent you to Hell," Sammy tries to argue this with me. "As in Hell. The underworld, not the town in Michigan."

"I know where I've been," I calmly assure him. "I'm just not feeling the whole 'eye-for-an-eye' on this one. He'll make it up to me, one way or another." I pause before we can enter the old house. "By the way, if you really want to date the vampire, I'm okay with it."

Sam cocks a somewhat amused but mostly suspicious brow at me.

"Okay," he begins. "Who the hell are you and what have you done with my brother?"

I smile.

"I'm your brother," I assure him, opening the back door. "I'm just a little older, a little wiser and entirely ready to do what it takes to make sure I never, ever go back there."


	31. 31 - Adeline

**Adeline**

I remember everything. Crowley escorting me to the pit. The brutal tortures of the seventh circle. The searing pains of my soul twisting, tarnishing into the demon version of me. Taking the throne beside Crowley as his Queen. A century and a half worth of these memories and I remember it all.

When I first gave my soul to Crowley, I thought I wanted to forget everything. Nearly a hundred and fifty years in the pit made me realize I wanted Castiel to suffer as he once made me suffer. I know I accomplished this, but not in the way I had intended. He blamed himself endlessly for my own selfish, ridiculous actions and when he came to rescue me, it wasn't self redemption he was after. All he wanted to do was to make me myself again.

I realized all of this when he wrapped his arms around me at the end of the eighth circle. This simple action sparked a flood of memories long abandoned at the gates of Hell, memories that reminded me of who I used to be. Who we used to be. And that, despite everything, he still loves me.

The moment my feet hit the earth, I began thanking God for everything I could think of. I thanked him for the daughter I hardly knew and His fallen son who fearlessly went up against Hell itself to rescue me. I thanked him for Dean Winchester and his companionship in the pit, which without I may have been a far more wicked demon than I was. I even thanked him for the sun, the air and the freaking trees.

I'm not sure what Castiel had planned once he had Dean and me topside. From the way he handed Dean his angel blade, it seems he didn't expect to survive the rescue mission. Now that he has, I'm still uncertain if there's an actual plan. Right now, sitting on the couch in Bobby Singer's living room with Castiel on my right and Cassandra on my left, I don't think I care. I'm more than content spending a few days just like this.

Meeting Bobby and Sam is strange yet refreshing. I can at last put faces to the names whose numbers occupied every cell phone Castiel ever gave me. Being introduced to Juliana is somewhat exhilarating, to say the least. I've never met a vampire before and I have a hard time not staring at her.

Bobby, Sam and Juliana listen to our story unfold with a quiet awe laced across their attentive faces. Castiel and our daughter, Cassandra, share how they marched through the nine circles unscathed while Dean throws in bits and pieces of his side of the tale. I add a comment or two from time to time, but mostly I remain silent as I enjoy the blissful comfort of my surroundings.

"Where did you get that last blast of energy from?" Sam questions Cassandra curiously. "And how are you still conscious?"

"I thought of things that made me happy," she explains with a simple, content breath. "And I'm too excited for sleep."

The seven of us chat for a while longer before Bobby excuses himself to attend to "business per usual", going between research for other hunters and the phones he keeps with labels like CIA and FBI. Dean and Sam find their way into the junk yard in the back, leaving Cassandra, Castiel, Juliana and myself sipping beer in the living room.

"So, what's next?" Juliana wants to know, glancing between the angel and myself. "Where do you go from here?"

"I have a man of God to thank and share stories with," Castiel replies. "And some lives to save."

"Don't forget that mansion you owe me," I playfully nudge him with my elbow and he smiles.

"How could I forget?" is his response and I smile up at him before my eyes can turn to Cassandra.

My daughter. She looks so much like me, it's almost like looking into a mirror. The love and pride I hold for this being is so intense I feel like I could explode at any moment. This girl, I made her, and she couldn't be more perfect.

"What about you, mom?" she asks me and I can't help but beam at the label.

"I hadn't thought that far yet," I admit. "I should probably go see my mom. Have you met your grandmother yet?"

"No," Cassandra confesses sheepishly. "I felt kind of awkward about it. I wasn't sure how or if she could take it."

"I'm sure she'd like to meet you," I assure my daughter who gives me a small smile.

"What about you, Cassie?" Juliana asks between sips of her beer. "What does an immortal half angel do with her earthly existence after a tour of Hell?"

"I'll probably go back to hunting," Cassandra replies. "Whatever Dean wants to do, really."

"Really?" Juliana seems genuinely surprised by my daughter's response.

"Of course," Cassandra replies. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know," the vampire gives a small shrug. "I just figured you'd go do your own thing. I mean, you don't think it'll be hard to say goodbye when he reaches the end of his road?"

"I know for a fact it will be hard," my daughter acknowledges this. "But it would be hard to say goodbye at any point. Yeah, I'll live a good thousand or ten years longer than him. That just means I have to spend as much time with him as I can while he's alive."

Juliana doesn't say anything, not at first. Instead she carefully ponders these words, quietly sipping her beer.

"You know," the vampire slowly begins. "For as young as you are, you're pretty damn smart and inspiring."

"Thanks," Cassandra smiles as she speaks. "Why do you ask, anyway? You weren't thinking about taking off on us, were you?"

"I was, actually," Juliana confesses. "But you're right. I should stick around and enjoy as much time with Sam as I can." Pause. "Besides, it'd be nice to have a friend left when he's gone. Especially you."

"You mean that?" Sam's form appears in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, hope blazing in his eyes as he looks over his girlfriend. "You're going to stay?"

"If I'm still welcome," Juliana nods and Sam cannot contain the grin that forms across his face.

"Thank god," I can hear him mutter as he pulls her into a long, hard embrace.

Dean enters with a small smile on his lips directed at my daughter. He strides towards her and offers her his hand.

"Come on," he speaks as Cassandra lovingly places her own hand into his. "Let's go get some shut eye."

She glances at me before she rises to her still somewhat unstable feet and I smile.

"Go," I tell her. "I'll have your father bring me by later."

That felt so strange to say. Strange in a completely wonderful way.

Cassandra stoops over to give me a long embrace before she gives her father a long, hard look. After a moment of silence, she wraps her arms around him.

"I don't love some of the things you've done," she whispers. "But I do love you. Dad."

The stunned expression that crosses his face tells me this is the first time she's ever said that to him. A wide smile spreads across his lips as he is overcome with peace and joy.

"Let's go home," Sam speaks, his right arm wrapped around Juliana's shoulders as the four say their goodbyes.

"Should I take you to your mother's?" Castiel asks and I smile.

"Not yet," I tell him. "You remember that little lake near Whitefish?"

"Yes," he nods. "It was your Heaven."

"Let's go there for a while," I suggest and he smiles.

He places his lips upon mine for a blissful moment in time before he wraps his arms around me and, in the blink of an eye, we stand upon the rickety old dock that stretches into the cool, calm mountain waters.

In this moment I feel, for the first time in an incredibly long time, like everything is finally going to be okay. Because it is. My hope has been returned and, with Castiel returned to his wonderful old self and an amazing daughter, I finally have peace to go along with it.

**The End.**

**AN: There you go. A happy ending. And it only took me three stories to get there.**

**I'd like to take this time to thank those of you who have continued to read & support what was supposed to be a short tale that took a life of its own. The fact that anyone read this in the first place is thrilling & those who took the time to supply me with such awesome reviews should know you inspired me to keep going.**

**So, thanks again for all the interest & support you've shown me & my story. This may be the end of one story, but I have more I intend on sharing with you. You know, if you're interested. Even if you're not, they'll be here at some point in the near future. ;)**


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